Eyes of The Beholder
by Fuuraibou
Summary: Leon and Carlos begin a pursuit across the Arizona deserts and into a hidden Umbrella-NEO facility in a last-ditch attempt to rescue the others from the the brainwashed Steve Burnside. Please R/R, tell me what you think!
1. Remembrance

EYES OF THE BEHOLDER:

CHAPTER ONE: REMEMBRANCE

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(The sequel to my first fic, As Cold Blood Runs. This first chapter basically focuses on the characters, depicting what happened in the three years since the UMBRELLA-NEO incident. I hope you enjoy.)

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Good morning, Sunshine

December 15, 2001. Three years later...

The sun peeking through the thin white curtains shone through my eyes, and I was forced to awake from my sleep. I sat up, and brushed my reddish bangs from my eyes. It was another morning...a chilly one, perhaps, but just another day in paradise, as the song goes. I kicked my feet out from under the comforter and sat upright on the bed. I reached for my white t-shirt on the wooden nightstand, and put it on. Carefully, I stood up, trying not to wake up the redheaded angel still asleep in the bed. I walked over the beige carpeting towards the large window across the room, and pushed the curtain out of the way. The early morning light spread across the beautiful snow-covered neighborhood in the small Chicago suburb where I resided. It was, as mentioned before, just another morning. But three years ago, I would've never thought I'd see another day. My face grew hard as I thought about my comrades that fell to the brutality of greed and ambition, and about how I should have, in all right and reason, fallen with them. But, what if it wouldn't have happened? Would I be a father? A husband? What would have happened if I had turned down the offer to serve in Raccoon City? So much has affected me...but in a way, the good overturns the bad, easily. I put a hand on my right cheek, feeling a scar from a war long over, but one that had left more than just physical torment. I lost family in this war. I lost a home. But I gained so much more. I had a wife...a son...legally, a daughter, as well. I had formed friendships that would last until the day I died. A normal life...finally, a normal life. I heard the door creak open, and a medium-short blonde girl poked her head through, looking at me.

"Hey," she cheerfully said. 

"Shhhh..." I whispered, holding my index finger to my lips. I used my other to point to my sleeping wife. "She's asleep. Let her rest."

"Just came to tell you that Marty's up," she said. "I got him bathed and changed."

"Thanks, hon," I told her. "I'll be right down."

"OK," she said, running out the door. I grabbed a pair of blue jeans off the floor and slipped into them. I walked over to the open door, and prepared to leave.

"Just where the hell do you think you're going?" I heard the tired voice, and looked to my left. Claire was awake, rolled over on her side, staring straight at me. I smiled, and walked over to her, kissing her forehead.

"Mornin', gorgeous," I told her. "Baby's awake. Daddy duty time." She laughed at me, and smiled...a beautiful smile that I fell in love with the first time I saw it. A smile I still love today.

"Better do something or Sherry will," she laughed, standing up and embracing me. I returned it, and put an arm around her shoulder.

"He's already bathed and dressed," I told her. Just as we were about to exit the room together, I heard a loud clang, Sherry yelling and Marty laughing.

"Sounds like breakfast is next," Claire told me. "I'd better get down there."

"No, you just relax," I told her. "I'll take care of it." I rushed down the beige carpeted stairs, and into the family room. I glanced into the kitchen, and saw Sherry picking up fallen pans.

"You just can't sit still, can you?" I joked, walking in to help her. I picked up the iron pans, placing them back into the cupboard, just noticing the slightly taller, but ever-so-unchanging Sherry. Still short for her age, she'd grown her hair longer. She stood there in a gray sweater and blue jeans, watching me carefully. 

"I was just going to start breakfast," she said, believing that I was angry with her.

"That's ok, Sherry. You're not in any trouble. I really appreciate your efforts," I told her. "But you just need to loosen up a bit. You spend too much time around here."

"I just want to help, that's all," she replied, on the verge of tears.

"You help more than you ever know," I told her. "Now I mean it. Go over to Ashleigh's or Caitlin's, or somewhere. Get your mind off everything and just relax."

"You sure?" she asked.

"I'm sure." I told her, and her face lit up like a thousand-watt bulb. She grabbed her coat, and turned to face me before she went out the door.

"I'll be back soon. I think I'm going to Ashleigh's," she said, and she ran out the door. I stood there, remembering a legal custody battle we had fought to adopt Sherry. Luckily her only living relatives: her brother; a close personal friend and comrade; and an aunt in California had put up no fight. Her brother had even recommended that custody be granted to us. Luckily, that was the case. I went back towards the stairs, and heard my eighteen-month old son crying in the living room. I walked in, and sitting on the white leather sofa was my red headed son, Martin Scott. He looked up at me with huge, beautiful blue eyes, and his crying subsided.

"Da?" he asked.

"Yep," I said, picking him up, cradling him in my arms.

"Yoo urk ooday?" he asked me in baby babble, trying to ask me if I had to work today. Being a captain of a local S.R.U.* doesn't leave you much time with your family.

"Hopefully not, little buddy, as long as Uncle Ark doesn't call," I told him, tousling his hair. 

"Ere Erry?" he asked.

"She's gone over to a friend's house," I told him.

"E comin bak?"

"Of course," I said. "She isn't going to leave you."

"K," he said. "Go see Mama." He wriggled out of my arms, and took off slowly up the stairs. I plopped down on the couch, turning on the TV. Nothing more than the local, boring news, as always. I didn't catch myself in time, and the next thing I knew I was asleep.

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Meanwhile, in Detroit, Michigan...

(Several hours later...)

(...and that's how it's been lately, kiddo. Busy with school and I'm working as a night janitor at a local factory. Beck's working at a local hospital as a specialist in viral vaccination agents. I'm losing weight at a rapid pace, and I'm finally feeling much better. Not looking like a living wall anymore, about the size of a really big linebacker, lol. I got your letter and picture yesterday. You're looking great, sis. Glad to hear that Leon, Claire, and the baby are happy and healthy as well. Got to go here, I got to clock in in an hour. I'll try to call you this week, sometime.

Love your brother,

Seth.)

I closed up the email, studying it in every shape and form. I really haven't been keeping too much contact with my sister lately, as stated before I was attending a community college, trying to obtain a law degree. I was supporting this habit by working as a night janitor. Tough labor (7 p.m to 5 a.m), but it was money nonetheless. I didn't want to seem like I was living off of Rebecca's exuberant salary at the local community hospital. So, I busted my ass night and day to try and live. Beck wasn't real happy with it, but it needed to be done. I quickly buttoned my gray uniform shirt, and hit (Enter) on my keyboard. The mail sent itself, and I had to be gone. I scribbled a quick note to Becky before I left, and left it on our computer desk. I turned out all the lights, shut off the coffee pot in the small kitchen/dining room, and ran out of the door of the apartment and headed for the elevator. I hit the button to lower myself to the B1 Garage, and the old, clunky piece of machinery crawled down the floors slowly, until the doors slid open to the dimly lit garage, revealing several cars, including my '91 Camaro. The old girl started right up, and I rolled out of the open door, preparing for yet another boring evening of mopping and sweeping.

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Indianapolis, Indiana:

"Chris!" I see him! He sees me. He begins to run, and I follow. He's faster...getting away...gotta catch him...I gain ground. But he turns around...he's got a gun. He sticks it to his temple...BLAM. Hello darkness, my old friend.

I awoke with a cold sweat. Another Chris nightmare. I stood up, and wrapped myself in a heavy leather jacket of Chris' that I found in his apartment, and walked over to a small window facing out of the hotel room. It had been weeks since I had last seen Christopher Daniel Redfield, and I was worrying. Three years ago he finally snapped under the unexplainable amount of pressure, and had taken off. I had tracked him this far, only to find an old, torn-up apartment, where Chris had left his jacket and a note addressed to me...one I had read so many times I had it memorized.

_Dearest Jill,_

Don't think I've not noticed you following me, because I have. You of all people should understand what I'm going through, and should give me my space. I hope you would understand, but it's obvious you don't. Please, just go back. Give my sister and her family my best regards. Maybe someday I'll figure this all out. But for now, just let me be.

Chris.

"Dammit, Chris," I whispered. "Where the hell did you go?" I leaned up against a dirty wall, and I felt tears flow from my eyes. I didn't care anymore. Chris was missing, and I felt I was on a wild goose chase. For nights on end, I had dreams of him. Always dying. Being shot, stabbed, or bitten by the undead creatures we had grown so accustomed to killing. But never living. Was it a vision, or just my love-sick mind telling me that it was finally time to get back out and find him. I liked the latter, more. So much that I was finally rededicating myself to the search.

"I'm coming for you, Chris," I cried silently. "Better have your shit straightened out when I get there." I laid back down on the bed, still wrapped in Chris' jacket, and fell asleep.

_Desert Paradise Municipal Airport; Desert Paradise, Arizona_

"OLIVERIA! TAXI THAT GULF DOWN HERE AND GET IT FUELED!" Mr. Shanahan's face was turning red, and those weird veins on his forehead were bulging again. I think he meant business.

"No can do,_ senor!" _ I shouted, laughing at the short bald man in overalls. "Do you expect me, a lowly chopper jockey, to be able to move giant Gulfstream?"

"Just get your ass in the damn thing and get it down to the tanks," Shanahan shouted. "I don't give a damn about what you can and can't fly!"

"All right," I mockingly warned. "But I don't think I can move Gulfstream!" I climbed up the exit ramp, closed the hatch, and moved into the elaborate passenger cabin. I slid the door to the cockpit open, and sat down into the pilot's chair. 

_"Aye Carumba,"_ I moaned. "Too many gauges and switches." Nothing said ignition, it was all so confusing. All had weird letter-number combos. I was only chopper jockey, I could barely fly Cessna or Piper! And he wants me to move Gulfstream.

"Oh _muerto," _I shouted. Radio...yeah, that's it! I use the radio! I picked up the headset, and affixed it to my head.

"_Senor Shanahan,"_ I said. "How do you start this thing?"

"Dammit, Carlos," he told me. "It's not too hard."

"I'm not familiar with this craft!" I shouted back. I heard Shanahan sigh, and he resigned to help me.

"OK, first hit the switched labled X-0894," he told me. I found the switch, and flipped it. "That should initiate power to the cabin." It did. 

"All right!" I shouted.

"OK," he said again. "Next, move the lever on the floor closest to you on the right.. It should be labeled with yellow tape." I pushed the lever, and I heard something disengage underneath. "That released your engine brake. Now, in this order, hit switch C-04, CVT001-20, T-001, and UF940-17Y." I did exactly that, and I saw the gauges respond. "Now, there's a small lever next to the engine brake, labeled in red tape," he said. "That'll start the engines." I looked and looked, and finally found the lever. After I pushed it, I heard the twin engines whir to life, and the plane lurched forward, but didn't move.

"She's on, now, where's throttle?" I asked.

"Another lever, to your left with blue tape." I caught sight of it, and prepared to move it, but Shanahan came over the radio again. "Just barely move it, just enough to get a little speed. You hit that too hard, and you'll hit take off speed in a matter of seconds." I barely touched the throttle, and the plane began to roll. 

"Thanks, _amigo!_" I shouted. "She's on her way." The plane was very responsive, and sooner than later, I had stopped at the fueling island. I opened the exit hatch, and climbed out. Shanahan was waiting for me, a bright grin on his elderly face. He walked up to me, and slapped me on the back.

"See, kid?" he asked. "Not so hard, was it?"

"No," I said. "But so many switches, it was confusing!" Two other workers ran out, and hooked a fuel line into the tank of the plane, and it began to fuel up. Shanahan walked with me back down the landing strip, talking to me.

"I've got one hell of an idea," he said.

"And that is?" I asked.

"I want to get you certified in the Gulf, and maybe the Super J, too."

"WHAT?!" I shouted.

"I want you to begin flying for the delivery service," he told me. "You're one hell of a chopper pilot, and you do pretty good with the little stuff. But I want you to start making the delivery and pickup runs for me. "

"The Gulf and the J are passenger planes!"

"Not our modifieds. We've torn out the passenger cabins, and turned them into large cargo holds. We just use them because of the speed and power."

"Dropping off and picking up what?" I asked.

"Parts, tools, fluids like oil and fueling agents, stuff for the local stores, just anything that we're hired to transport." That got me thinking.

"Would it happen to take me to Chicago, sometime?" I asked.

"We have a big parts broker up there," he told me. "I guarantee that you'll make one to two runs up there a month." Just the excuse I was looking for.

"You arrange the lessons, I'll attend," I said.

"I thought you'd see it my way," he replied, heading for the small tower. 

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Arklay Mountain Area, Illinois. 

Several days later...

"Forest....Kenneth....Joseph....Richard....Enrico....we did it, guys. We took 'em down. The good guys finally won. But it sucks that you couldn't be there. You guys are the best I ever worked with...and it...it..." he fell down at the concrete foundation, the only remnants of the Spencer Estate, and began wailing. I hated to see him that way. I climbed out of the rental sedan, and walked down the dusty road towards him. He was kneeling at the base of the mansion, weeping. 

"It's ok," I said, putting a hand on his shoulders. He stood up, his face pale, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Jill? What are you doing here?" he asked me, eyeing me with reddened eyes.

"I was about to ask you the same question."

"How did you..."

"You're predictable."

"What's the deal with my coat?" That one I couldn't come up with an answer for.

"What's the deal with you?" I asked. "You're sister's worrying about you, the same as everyone else."

"I told you. I need space."

"You need a fucking shrink if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't ask you."

"Too bad.

"I don't know your reasoning for following me, but it won't do any good."

"All right, I've had enough," I said angrily. "You're going seventeen miles south of here, and you are going to see your sister. You're going to meet your nephew, as well." He was stunned.

"Claire had a kid?!"

"A boy. Eighteen months old, his name's Martin."

"Jesus Christ bananas!" he shouted. "You're shitting me?!"

"No. He's a menace. Much like you, except he's a redhead."

"Dammit," he breathed. "I had no friggin' idea."

"Well, maybe you should go by and meet him."

"Aw, hell, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"She'd kick my ass black and blue!"

"If I don't first. Get in the car."

"But my bike..."

"Get in the damn car, Chris."

**__**

This was actually long in the running. I was planning this from about when I was writing chapter eight of As Cold Blood Runs. I hope this doesn't just fall apart, I feel that it's better than its predecessor. I would appreciate it if you would tell me what you think. Oh, yeah, before I forget, check out the new website at www.squallstrife78.freeservers.com. It will be worth your time!

Peace,

Squall.


	2. The Grand Illusion, Part One

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EYES OF THE BEHOLDER

CHAPTER TWO: THE GRAND ILLUSION, Part one

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Welcoming Committee:

"Damn," Chris breathed as he scanned the old neighborhood with eyes shaded underneath amber sunglasses. "Guess some things just never do change." He pulled a pack of Marlboro cigarettes out of his coat pocket along with a windproof lighter. He jutted one of the cancer-sticks in his mouth, and lit it, taking a big puff of it in. He sighed, and removed it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. 

"I thought you were going to quit?" I inquired, trying to maintain control of the small sedan on the icy road.

"That was three years ago," he said, in between puffs. "This is now." I felt the back end of the car start sliding, and I quickly thrust the wheel the other way. The car began to spin, until I saw Chris' strong hand grip and cut the wheel opposite the way I had turned it. The car straightened, but in fear, I stopped the car on the side of the road and turned it off. I leaned back in my seat, breathing heavily. Chris sat back also, and a whispering chuckle came out.

"What's so damn funny?" I asked, angrily.

"Hard to believe that an ex-Delta can't even remember that you're supposed to turn the car _in the direction_ of the slide," he laughed. "And you call me stupid."

"Not funny," I muttered. "So not funny."

"Relax, Jill," he said, taking another hit off of the cigarette. "I'm just joking with you. You ought to know that."

"Still," I told him. "This isn't as easy as it looks. If you want to try, then be my guest."

"No thank you," he replied. "I find it more entertaining to see you try." I really felt the urge to spit in his face, but then...well, what would he think of me then?

"Well then, sit back and shut up," I told him. "'Cause this is going to be one hell of a ride." I turned the key, and the engine began cranking...and nothing more. The radio was on when I turned the car off...and now it wasn't.

"Oh, no," I breathed, trying to start the vehicle again. Houston, we have a problem.

"The damn battery is dead," I shouted. "The mother fucking battery is DEAD!"

"Jesus Christ, Jill," Chris said. "It's not the end of the world. Just calm down."

"How can I be calm?!" I shouted. "We're still miles from the house! There's a damn blizzard outside. What the hell am I going to do now?"

"Uh, Jill," he stammered.

"What?!" He flashed his goofy grin as he pulled a small, worn leather pouch out of his jacket. I immediately recognized it as a cell phone carrier.

"Now where the hell did you get that?" I asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Don't you remember?" he asked, that smile still playing across his lips. "Alpha Squad Christmas Party, 1997? That's what you got me, I believe?"

"I bought the carrier, I thought you already had a phone," I replied. "Turned out you didn't, so I thought you got rid of it."

"Actually, I went after I got off of vacation and bought one," he stated. "Never know when it might come in handy. Kind of like...right now?"

"You're always full of surprises," I told him. "So call them."

"You're insane, woman," he said, thrusting his phone into my hand. "I'm going to try to keep this as a surprise. So don't ruin it for me." I sighed deeply, and I opened the carrier to reveal a small cellular phone. 

"Do I have to dial the area code or something?" I asked, turning the power on.

"Nope," he said. "Just make sure it still works. I don't know if my last payment got through." I quickly dialed Leon's number, and I heard a ringer.

"Well, I'm getting through..."

_Meanwhile..._

"Hey sleepyhead, you going to get that?" Huh? Did I fall asleep? "You know that you're supposed to answer the phone when it rings." 

"Let the machine get it," I moaned groggily. Claire playfully slapped my head as she picked up the phone.

"Hello?" She began. "Kennedy residence..."

"Oh shit," Jill breathed as she cupped her hand around the mouthpiece of the phone. "It's your sister."

"Oh great," Chris said. "Just ask for Leon. Tell her you're from the station or something."

"OK..."

"Hello?" Claire asked again. This time I could hear pure annoyance in her voice. Really, I thought that it was just another prank caller, but obviously someone answered. "Leon? Oh, he's right here. Who's calling? Captain Allen's secretary? I didn't know that Gray had a secretary. Oh well, here he is." She tapped the back of my head with the phone, and tiredly I took it.

"This is Leon Kennedy," I groaned.

"I'm pretty sure you know who this is," a familiar voice came over. "But don't say a word to Claire."

"OK," I said, the voice really not registering in my head. "But I really don't know who this is."

"Come on, Leon," the voice repeated. "Can't even recognize me?"

I finally got it. It was Jill.

"OK, that's right," I stammered. "You're that new intern that's working for Captain Allen. What do you need?"

"To tell you that you're about to give your wife the best Christmas present she's ever gotten."

"What do you mean?" I asked. Now she was really throwing me for a trip.

"Find out for yourself." I heard a shuffling noise which I guessed was a phone being passed. Now, a little light was being shed. If the recipient of the phone was who I thought it was, then Jill was absolutely right.

"Been a while, huh?" the rough voice boomed through the receiver.

"Uh...." I groaned, trying to figure out how to keep my utter surprise a secret. "Yes, it has been awhile since our last contact, Captain. How may I help you?"

"Well, first you get Claire out of your way. I don't care what you have to do or say, just do it. Have her go to your store or something."

"That may be kind of hard, because the storage rooms are under lockdown until after the New Year's inventory," I replied, hoping he'd pick up the drift.

"The store's closed?!"

"Yes sir, the storage rooms are closed for New Year's inventory," I repeated. 

"OK," he said, taking a deep breath. "Listen to me. The car's dead...we're still a couple of miles from the house. Jill thinks it's the battery, but I'm not for sure."

"OK, Gray. I think I can get up there," I said. "I've got a toolbox in the back of my truck. I probably could grab an extra battery out of the garage. I;m not sure how well a cruiser would jump in this weather."

"Awesome," he replied. "You'll be able to see us pretty easy...it's a red Ford Escort."

"Yes, sir. I'll be right in. Thanks." I pushed the off button on the phone, and rose to grab my coat. As I moved towards the doorway, Claire slid in and separated myself from the door as she clasped her arms around my waist.

"And _just_ where do you think you're going, mister?" she asked, sarcastically.

"Gray's having vehicular problems. So guess who he calls?" I answered, drawing her near to me.

"So why don't I grab my coat and go with you?" she asked. Uh-oh. How was I going to worm my way out of this one?

"Well," I tried. "All I have to do is run a spare battery up to Gray Allen. Anyways, I really don't to get you out in this mess, should something happen." She gave me a quizzical look, and I could tell that she wasn't buying it. But still, she didn't ask again. She let go of me, and walked over to the couch.

"All right," she said. "Just be careful." I grinned as I walked over and kissed her forehead.

"Don't worry," I told her. "I'll be fine." I put on my heavy bomber jacket with the Valin Heights S.R.U. logo on, and stepped out the door. I gingerly made my way across the ice to the garage door, and I opened it, revealing my brand-new Dodge Ram. It was a powerhouse: V-10, 4WD, all the works. Next to it sat my pet project: A 1967 cherry-red Chevelle with a 402 V-8 and four speed transmission. Seeing the conditions, I decided on taking the black Ram, making sure that I had found a spare 12-volt battery and dumping it in the back. I climbed into the massive cab, and stirred the beast to life. It started with a massive roar, and I put the selector lever into reverse, backing out of the garage. I kicked it into four-wheel drive, and heard the auto-locking hubs engage. I carefully treaded across the ice and snow, preparing to find the biggest surprise I had seen in years. But trust me...things were preparing to get a lot more complicated.

"Do you think he's coming?" Jill asked, 

"That's simply a stupid question," I pointed out. "He'd never leave us like that."

"Well, it's been five minutes..." she said, the concern highly detectible in her voice.

"I'm sure he's coming," I told her. Somehow, I finally seemed to pacify her. She just sat back, and crossed her arms over her chest. I put an arm around her shoulder and she looked at me, surprised.

"Don't worry," I told her. "He's probably gotten himself interrogated by my sister. But he'll be here." I removed my arm, and stuck the leather pouch with my cell phone in it back in my coat. I put out the cigarette, and stepped out of the car. I glanced back through the passenger's side glass, and saw Jill fumbling with her seatbelt, trying to get out. I leaned up against the car, and looked at the ever-so-cloudy sky, with a little bit slower snowdrift falling. The temperature had to be about twenty, and frankly, I hated it. Winter in Illinois is definitely something I didn't enjoy. Jill finally got out of the car, and stood there beside me in awkward silence for a few minutes, soon to be broken by the roaring of a black Dodge Ram slowly treading towards us. When it got to about one-hundred yards from us, I could begin to recognize the driver: medium-long red hair, still parted down the middle like always, a comical face, dressed in a black bomber jacket and a white shirt, but no doubt had a pair of blue dungarees on. A black pair of sunglasses covered his blue eyes, but I still knew him.

"Told you, Jill," I said, prodding her side with my forefinger. "There he is." The Ram slid to a halt to the right of us, and the tall, lanky driver jumped out of the truck.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, letting down the tailgate. "Look what the fucking cat just drug in."

"Nice to see you too, Leon." He grabbed a 12-volt car battery out of the truck bed, and set it down on the ground. He then vaulted himself into the back of the four wheel drive pickup, and opened a steel truck-box attached right behind the extended cab. He grabbed a crescent wrench, and tossed it down by the battery. 

"Pop the hood," he told Jill. She ran back around and the dark red hood popped up. Leon released the safety latch, and rose the hood. He took the wrench, and unconnected the battery. He rather quickly replaced it, and slammed the hood down. 

"Try starting it," he said, and Jill hit the key. The small four-cylinder somewhat choked to life, and I heard Jill release a large sigh of relief. Leon threw the old battery and wrench in the back of the truck, and turned back towards me.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you guys," he began. "Because I really am. But Claire's still at home. We need to come up with some kind of a plan."

"I'm fresh out of ideas, bro," I replied. "What about you, Jill?"

"Simple subterfuge," she stated, stepping out of the car. "I'll go in, get Claire and Sherry out of the house, and let you two buffoons in to figure out the best way to give them a heart attack." Leon let out a hearty laugh, and clasped a strong hand on my shoulder.

"Buffoons, eh?" he laughed. "Wait 'till you see what I have in mind."

"That's what scares me, you jackass," I replied. 

"No, no, no," he said. "Listen to me. Jill, you'll ride with me back to the house. Chris, on the other hand, will circle the block for a couple of minutes, until you can get Claire out. Then Chris comes inside, and when Claire returns, there he'll be, plopped down on the couch." It was a pretty impressive idea.  
"I like it," I said. "It's a good plan."

"I can deal with that," Jill replied, obviously pondering the situation. 

"OK then," he said. "Jill, let's get going." He opened the passenger's door on the large truck, and Jill stepped on the running board and climbed into the truck. 

"Just one question, Leon!" I shouted as he slammed the tailgate and turned to the truck.

"What?" he shouted back.

"Where the hell did you get a hillbilly-looking rig like that?" I laughed.

"Wouldn't you like to know!"

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And in Michigan

"Bad night?" She looked at me with her emerald eyes as I entered the door. I took off my unbuttoned uniform shirt, leaving me in my dark gray uniform pants and a white undershirt. I threw the ball cap off of my head, and plopped down on the couch beside her.

"Don't ask," I replied. She leaned her head on my shoulder, and shifted her body to where she sat in the crook of my arm. Her eyes could tell me anything...and right now, they were telling me that she was extremely worried about something.

"How much longer are you going to keep this up?" she asked. "How much longer are you going to be at all hours of the night, wearing yourself out just to make money that we don't even need?" Here it comes. The nightly discussion on how she can support me. 

"Why can't you understand?" I replied. "I don't want your money, Beck."

"Once again, on the grand macho trip," she replied, standing up. "You're gone all the time, either at school or at work. I never see you, and I can tell that you're not getting enough rest."

"I'm all right," I replied. "Never been better." An exasperated look crossed her face, and she folded her arms over her chest.

"Oh you are?" she stated. "Sure could've fooled me."

"I don't know why this has to be a big issue," I replied, slipping my leather work boots off of my feet.

"Exactly!" she shouted. "Why does this have to be such a big issue? You need to worry about school, and not so much on this little facade you've set out on."

"I'm doing fine," I stated, kicking my bare feet up on the couch.

"Jesus Christ, Seth!" she shouted. "You're not fine! When you're not in class, you're either sleeping or you're working! You can't go on forever ignoring this!"

"Ignore what? This is something that I have to do," I replied. "So just don't worry about me."

"You can't get it, can you?" she asked. "You don't have to do this. You could actually let me help you, instead of busting your ass all night, and trying to go to class all day."

"Like I said, I don't need your help," I replied.

"If you could only see," she said, now almost crying. "If you could only see what this is doing to you. You don't look like yourself anymore. You're starting to look like an old man."

"That's real comforting," I answered.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to say, Seth," she replied. "We've all aged beyond our years. But still, there's no reason for you to do this. There's no reason. We've got all ends met, plus more."

"I just have to," I replied. "It's all I know."

"Why?" she sat there, prodding me. "Why do you do this?"

"You wouldn't understand," I said. "You've always had everything going for you. You just can't see where I'm coming from." I stood up, and moved past her, and headed into the kitchen. She stood there for a minute just staring at me, a look of pain on her face.

"You're right," she said softly, the hurt evident in her soft voice. "I can't understand. Because you won't let me. Tell me. Make me understand."

"You want to know?" I asked, a flooding tide of memories of a life that had been so full of weariness flowing through my insides. "All right, fine." I stormed out of the kitchen, and caught vision of the picture of my father, Stephen Marcus Hartford, that hung on the wall. "Dad...he always told me..." I couldn't hardly choke the words out. "He always told me that a man wasn't worth anything if he didn't work hard...that if I didn't work hard, I would be a failure."

"Oh, Seth," she whispered.

"He always told me that I had to prove myself to himself and everyone else that I could take care of myself. That I had to prove that I wasn't a failure. That's why I do this. He's been dead for five years, yet I still have to prove to him that I'm not a failure. Guess I proved him wrong."

"You think you're a failure?" she asked, tears budding from her eyes. "Look at what you have accomplished. At what we've accomplished. We've saved countless lives. We've rid the world of an evil man. And you call yourself a failure?"

"But I couldn't save _them,_" I replied. "My aunt, my sister, my _father_. I failed all of them."

"Oh, Seth," she said, and I felt her face on my back. "You had no control over that. It wasn't your fault. Birkin ordered that."

"But I just can't stop thinking about them," I replied. 

"You never will," she told me. "You couldn't if you wanted to. But you haven't failed anyone. Anyone."

I couldn't answer. 

_Back in Illinois:_

"Wow," Chris gaped, staring through the doorway. "Place has really changed." He slowly entered the house, taking time to admire the wall hangings, such as family photos, and even my Captain's accommodation. He made his way into the living room, and plopped down on the sofa, his eyes still gazing around the small room. His jaw dropped to the floor when he saw the 61' big-screen sitting in the corner. 

"Christ, man," he said. "You must be making some pretty good money."

"Just relax, Chris," I said, hanging my coat on the hanger in hall. "You may need some real energy for the real show."

"Real show?" he asked, bemused at the fact that he'd have the jump on Claire. "Extravagant bloodbath is more like it."

"Bloodbath, no," I said, grabbing a beer out of the fridge. I held up the can where Chris could see it. "You want one?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Alcohol on my breath would only make things worse." I shrugged, and tossed him one anyway. I kicked my boots off in the kitchen, and made my way across the white carpeting in the living room, and I plopped down in the recliner next to the sofa. I opened the can of Budweiser, and saw Chris had done the same, except he was chugging it.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"Let's just say I want a buzz before Claire gets here," he said in between gulps. "It will help numb the pain."

"She's not going to do anything horrible or detestable to you, Chris," I replied. "Just calm down." He sighed, and kicked up his feet on the sofa. "I'm not really worried about that. It's just that I'm just really nervous, Leon. I haven't seen you guys in a long time, and I understand that's my fault. I just don't know how she's going to react."

"She'll be ecstatic," I assured him. "It'll be cool, man. You got my word on that one."

"If you say..." his words were broken by the abrupt opening of the door, and in stepped Sherry, bundled in a coat. She threw it in the floor of the hall, and kicked her snow boots off in the same manner. We then heard her careful steps into the living room, and she peeked her head around the corner.

"Hey, Leon, I'm..." she began, her eyes suddenly bulging out to the size of silver dollars. "Holy shit!" she shouted.

"Hey, watch your mouth, kid," Chris grumbled. Sherry let out a squeal of delight, and ran over to Chris, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Chris!" she shouted triumphantly. "What are you doing here?"

"Jesus, relax," he said, untangling her arms from his neck. He sat there, staring at the fifteen year old young lady that was still somewhat short for her age, but nevertheless still growing. "Sherry, you've shot up like a weed, kiddo," he admired. Her face turned red with embarrassment, and she slightly turned her head. She looked over at me, and plopped down in the floor in front of the sofa. 

"Same old Sherry," Chris said, laughing. But amidst of the joyful reunion, I was still confused as to why Sherry was home so early.

"Did Ashleigh kick you out or something?" I asked. "Because I thought you were going to stay the night over there."

"Nah," she said, looking at me. "Mrs. Canton decided that I should probably come home, because of the ice. She said that it wasn't smart for you or Claire to get out on the ice."

"Yet she let you walk home," Chris laughed. "Hmm....a real dilemma."

"Shut up," she said, hurling a small pillow, nailing Chris right in the head with it.

"Man, she's got a mouth on her," Chris said, tucking the pillow under his arm. "And one hell of an arm, too."

"All-Conference softball squad A," Sherry beamed. "Year before and last year." 

"Yeah," I agreed. "Highest strikeout percentage in the state." Chris played a smile of admiration on his face, and nodded.

"Yep," he said. "But high school is going to get a lot tougher. Competition gets stronger."

"She's a sophomore, Chris," I corrected. His smile turned to a gaze of surprise.

"What?" he said. "Sophomore at fifteen?"

"Just because you were a sixteen year old freshman doesn't mean everyone else is," Sherry joked.

"Sixteen?" he said. "No thank you, I believe I was fifteen. Top ten percent all the way through."

"Yeah, of the lower half of the class," I smirked. He grabbed the pillow, but froze at the sound of a roaring Dodge entering the drive way.

"Oh shit," he said. "She's home."

"So you lost him, huh?" she asked as she pulled the truck up the drive into the garage, next to a red Chevrolet.

"Haven't seen him since I left Indy," I replied, shakily. She gave me a quizzical look as she turned the key off, and unbuckled her seatbelt. 

"That's just Chris," she said. "After Dad died, he basically didn't go outside for a year. School and football, but that was it. When we found out Mom had cancer, he ran out and joined the Air Force and he split out for Saudi. They let him go in '92, and Mom died two years later. The only times I saw him from 1991 to 1994 was at the hospital when she died, and at the funeral."

"Then he got the job in Raccoon in '97..." I completed. Claire nodded, and wiped her eye.

"Hell, Jill," she said. "I was only fifteen when Mom died. I moved to Crown Heights after she died, and I graduated there. Then Chris got the S.T.A.R.S. deal, and he used up his savings just getting me into the University of Illinois. Then he sent me half of his goddamn paycheck every month, but I really never saw him too often." She really couldn't finish, and began to cry.

"Claire, relax," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He loves you, you know that. He just has a hard time showing it. He had to grow up too early. But I'm sure he'll come around one of these days." Claire rose from her slouched position, opened the door, and climbed out of the truck.

"Come on," she said. "Leon probably thinks I have a boyfriend." I let out a small chuckle, and I got out of the truck as she pulled the vibrantly amazing Martin Scott Kennedy from his car seat. He fought and struggled, but as always, his mother won. He conceded defeat rather calmly, however, and soon was relaxed and comforted in her arm. She pulled the key ring out of the ignition with her free hand, and slammed the door shut with her foot. We traced our way through the garage, and up two steps and through a door that led into the kitchen.

"I'm home, Leon!" I heard Claire's voice resonate through the kitchen, and the three of us panicked. Chris literally leapt up, and ducked behind the couch. Sherry shot straight up onto the couch, and I jumped up from my seat and rushed quickly into the kitchen. Claire stood there, her head cocked to the side eyeing me suspiciously, and Jill stood there behind her, trying not to laugh.

"What's all the commotion?" Claire asked, allowing me to take my son from her arms.

"Uhh..." I stuttered. "Nothing at all..." She raised her left eyebrow and looked at me curiously.

"Yeah, right," she said. "So what's going on?" Jill couldn't hold it anymore, and stifled a laugh.

"I think Leon has something to show you," she chuckled. Claire's face grew even more curious, and she brushed past me.

"Oh really?" she said, running into the living room. "What is it? Where is it?" She paced across the living room, looking on the walls, up and down, just all over the place. With a quick and subtle motion, I signaled for Chris to stand up right as Claire had her back to him. He swiftly and softly jumped over the couch, and grasped both of Claire's shoulders with his hands.

"Right behind you, sis," he said sternly. Claire's eyes grew wide, and she pivoted around and looked Chris square in the eye. She stood there for the longest amount of time, and finally realized that it was true. She jumped up, and slung her arms around his shoulders.

"Chris!" she shouted. "God, where have you been?" He let out a small laugh, and dropped her.

"Still the same, still the same," he joked. "Glad to see you too." And with that said, Claire let off a kick that hit Chris square in the...well, let's just say that it was a pretty important piece of equipment.

"Christ!" he choked, bending over and grabbing his groin. "What did I tell you, Leon? She's stark-raving mad!" I looked at my wife with a surprised look, and she turned her attention back towards Chris.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she shouted. "You had me worried up one wall and down the other!" Marty started laughing, and wriggling to get out of my arms.

"Sure kicked his ass in a hurry," Jill laughed. Marty caught use of that word, and started laughing more.

"Ass!" he shouted. "Assassassassass!" I sighed, and let him go, turning towards Jill.

"Thanks a lot," I said. "You've got my kid talking like a sailor."

"Ailor!" Marty shouted. "Ailor ass!" And he kept shouting that as he crawled his way up the stairs.

**__**

Well, it seems that old friends and allies are starting to regroup, but something is lurking in the shadows...something that will touch the very souls of the survivors. What's going to happen? I guess you'll just have to wait until chapter three shows up. P.S.: I know that it's been a long wait. Computer troubles (I've had to run a recovery disk seven times in the past two months!!) and the fact that I've revised this five times since I started this chapter in July:). Anyways, school and work get in the way, so it will probably be a while before I post another chapter in this saga, and anyways, I still have my other incomplete fic to worry about. But don't worry, I still haven't forgotten you!


	3. The Grand Illusion, Part Two

****

EYES OF THE BEHOLDER

CHAPTER THREE: THE GRAND ILLUSION, part two

__

Begins with one's self:

That evening.

"Three years," Chris said, leaning back in his chair at the dinner table. "What a difference they've made. What a difference." He took another drink from the bottle of Bud Light on the table, set it back down, and let out a partly contented, partly distressed sigh. He glanced at his watch, and yawned.

"You're right about that," I said. "Time has changed us all. One minute we're fugitives from an international powerhouse, and the next minute we're national heroes...decent and respectable members of society."

"Well..." Chris began, with a little humor in his voice. "Decent and respectable? Just who do you think you're talking to, anyway?" I had to stifle a laugh. 

"Shut up, dumbshit," I scorned. "You almost made me wake up your sister and Leon. How well do you think that would have gone over?"

"Good point," he said, pitching the empty bottle into a nearby trash can as he rose and stood in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen. "In both of your statements. Really makes me think."

"And that means what?" I asked.

"I'm thirty years old, Jill," Chris said. "After what we've been going through the past three or four years, I never thought I'd see the day. And here I am. My twenty-two year old baby sister has grown up, and gotten married to a great guy. I've got a nephew. And yet I'm just me. I haven't changed a bit. Seems that the world is just turning, and I'm still standing still. Why is that?" I walked up, and put a hand on Chris' shoulder.

"Chris, you're feeding yourself full of bullshit," I told him. "Look at you. For God's sake, when I first met you, you were nothing than an old flyboy who gave a damn for nobody but himself. Then, that day in the mansion, when you saved me, I finally saw the real you, Chris. You're a strong, caring individual who would give his own life just to save those he cares about. How can you say you haven't changed?"

Chris stood there silent.

"You know, we've been through a lot, Chris," I said, pushing past him and heading for the front door. "And we did it together. We survived. Please, never forget that."

"Jill...I..." Chris stuttered, running for the front door.

"What?" I asked, next to my car.

"Nothing. Good night." I waved back as s got into the red Ford and drove off, leaving Chris leaning on the front porch with a head full of confusing thoughts. 

I stood out there for what seemed like forever.

"Chris, what are you doing out here?" I spun around, and saw Sherry, clinging tightly to herself in a terry cloth bathrobe, standing in the open doorway.

"Nothin', kiddo," I responded. "You better be getting to bed. It's almost one o-clock in the morning. Why are you up so late anyway?"

"Just talking to Seth on my Instant Messaging program," Sherry answered. "But you're right. It is late. So get out of the cold and get inside."

"I'll be there in a minute, Sherry," I said, pulling out a Marlboro package out of my coat pocket, and began fumbling for a lighter. Sherry simply shut the door, and turned up the stairs. I stood, leaning against the porch railing for a minute longer, and I stared at the cigarette package in my hand.

"Change always begins with one's self," I muttered as I flung the package into the gently falling snow.

__

Quick Glimpse into the Future:

9:00 AM, the next morning

__

Leon:

"He's still sleeping," I said as I silently stepped down the stairs into the hallway next to the living room, where Chris lay sprawled out on the couch in a v-neck undershirt and white boxer shorts. 

"He was up late last night," Sherry said from inside the kitchen. "Later than I was."

"Sounds about like him," I replied. "Let's give him a little surprise, shall we?" I snuck out the front door, and out onto the snow-covered porch. I grabbed a fist full of snow, and formed it into a ball with his hands. I slowly shut the door, and walked over to where Chris was sleeping on the couch.

"Leon, don't!!" Sherry giggled. "He might get you back..."

"Let him try," I laughed. "Hey, Chris..." Chris just turned and mumbled in his sleep.

"One more chance, pal," I stated.

"Fuck off," Chris groaned.

"I'll take that as a yes," I laughed, smashing the snowball right into Chris' face. He jumped up with a yelp, wiping his face.

"Damn it, what is wrong with you people?" he shouted. Sherry and I exchanged a high-five as we nearly fell in the floor laughing. "Can't a guy get any sleep around here?!"

"Well, that's a stupid question," Sherry burst. "Of course not!" 

"Yeah, reeeaaaaaal mature, guys," Chris spat, still wiping melted snow off his face. "Really fucking mature."

"Now, come on, it was just a joke," I answered. "Now keep it down. Claire and the baby are still trying to sleep. I don't know about you two, but I'd like to live to see my twenty-sixth birthday. Now come on, 'old man,' I need some help out in the garage."

"Who you callin' old?" Chris shot back, pulling on a pair of black sweatpants with the S.T.A.R.S. logo on the left leg. "I tell ya, kids these days!" This brought out another dose of riotous laughter. Chris grabbed his leather jacket, slipped it on, and followed me to the door. Sherry didn't seem to notice, but Chris' right hand was slightly trembling.

"Ladies first," I laughed. Chris' face grew stern as he flipped me the bird. However, Leon would be the first to notice the jittery Chris.

"What's with the shakes, man?" I asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Don't ask," Chris replied, stepping out the door and out onto the porch. "I'll explain everything later." I just shook my shoulders, and the two men stepped down the porch into the open garage. I walked over and pulled a tarp off of a car. Chris couldn't believe his eyes. He saw a 1967 fire-engine red Chevrolet Chevelle Super Sport. Glossy paint, chrome rally wheels and trim...it was one of the most beautiful sights Chris had ever come across.

"Where the hell did you get this, Leon?" he asked.

"It's a little project of mine," I replied. "Found the body all rusted and banged up at a salvage yard for fifty bucks. I decided for the first time in my life, I was going to try to rebuild something. Take a look at these pictures." Chris scanned the pictures of a burnt-out, rusted, beat-up wreck. Then he looked at the marvel before him.

"I'm surprised Claire hasn't tried to kill you yet," Chris replied, scanning over the car. "It must have cost a fortune to build this thing."

"It did," I answered. "And she did, too. I tell you, I was sleeping out here for a week." I then opened the door, and Chris looked inside. It had been fitted with original gauges, and the black leather seats had been beautifully restored. It had a four-speed floor shift transmission, with a cue-ball shifter.

"Damn, man," Chris gasped. "She's sweet looking. How does she sound?"

"That's the problem," I said, climbing in. I put a key into the ignition, and turned it. The engine roared to life, but as soon as I lifted my foot from the throttle, the car began to shake as the engine started missing.

"Any idea?" I asked.

"Carburetor," Chris said, after listening to it for a minute. "Not enough air to the mix. Cut the engine, and pop the hood. For God's sake, Leon, you'd think after friggin' rebuilding this thing you'd be able to solve a simple problem like this." I did as Chris instructed. Chris lifted the hood, unscrewed the chrome air filter, and saw a four-barrel Edelbrock carburetor. 

"I need a small screwdriver," he said, slipping off his jacket. "Then I want you to start the car back up." I reached into a toolbox, and handed Chris a screwdriver. I then reached into the car, and fired the engine back up. Chris made a few adjustments to two small screws on the sides of the carburetor, and soon, the engine leveled out as he reattached the air filter. The sound was amazingly beautiful to Chris.

"402 V8, right?" he asked, closing the hood.

"With a 400 four-speed racing transmission," I answered. "I can't believe that it was that simple. Thanks, man."

"Leon!" He heard a loud voice from the porch. It was Claire. "Ark's on the phone! He says it's urgent!"

"Probably lost the key to the drunk tank again," I said, turning off the car. "I'll be right back." Chris closed the car door, and followed me back into the living room, where Claire stood with the cordless phone in hand. I gave a lopsided grin as I took it.

"Yeah," answered. "What?! Holy shit. Holy fucking SHIT! OK, I'm on my way. No, no, get Demo 1 and Recon Tango A prepped. I want them loaded up in 15. Have my gear out and waiting for me. Go with Intercept plan 1047-C. They're on I-90. Get both chopper teams up in the air, too. OK, I'm on my way." He hung up the phone, grabbed his jacket, and bolted for the door.

"Leon, what's wrong?" Claire asked, worriedly. I turned in his tracks, and planted a quick kiss on her lips. 

"It's complicated," I answered. "Put it on the news." I then rushed into the garage. The small party heard the roaring of the Dodge Ram coming to life, and saw it bolt out the driveway. 

__

Claire:

I immediately closed the door, and the three of us stood in front of the TV as I turned it onto the local news channel.

"...stolen chemical tanker has been spotted last traveling northwest. Oh, wait a sec! This just in! Our investigation team has just reported that the Chicago Area Special Response Unit based out of Valin Heights, under the command of Captain Leon Scott Kennedy, is being deployed to intercept the tanker, which is believed to be carrying a strain of a dangerous bio-chemical agent. The V.H.P.D. or the Metro P.D. is not commenting on this matter...for further news on this matter please stay tuned..."

"Oh my God," I gasped. "This isn't good." Chris put a comforting arm around my shoulder.

"It'll be fine. Leon's a big boy. He'll make it just fine," he soothed. But somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he wondered if he himself could believe it.

__

Leon:

"OK, Recon Tango A and Demo 1 up in 5!" a tall black man in black Kevlar body armor shouted, holstering a high-powered K3G4 Assault Rifle over his shoulder. "The Cap's going to be in here soon, so no slacking, people! This is the real deal here!!" He turned around to see me rush through the door to the locker room.

"Bruce, what's going on here?" I asked as I slipped into a black Body Glove and began to strap on pieces of Kevlar.

"A 55-07. Seems some crack-nut Arabs have hijacked a truck carrying a powerful biological weapon," Bruce Mason, the squad leader of Demolitions Squad 1, answered.

"What's the weapon?" I asked, finishing the application of the armor. 

"Flash from the past, boss," Bruce answered, tossing me another K3G4. "It's the goddamn T-Virus, Leon."

"Fuck," I answered. "OK, are my copter teams up?"

"Yes sir!" Ark shouted. "They're in direct pursuit, ready to fire if needed." I grabbed a helmet, and called the men around.

"OK, guys," I began. "This is what all of this training and drilling was for. A terrorist group has hijacked a cleanup tanker of a very powerful biological weapon. Our helicopter squad is in tight pursuit, but we can't take a chance of the tanker coming under fire. Bruce, order your men to set up a blockade of a 10 mile length, behind and in front. We'll be dropped by heli-transport over the blockade, where we'll overtake the tanker. Very basic, but still very dangerous. No time for questions. Let's move."

__

Back at home:

"..We've just received confirmation of the deployment of the Chicago Area S.R.U. Blockades have been set up to contain the renegade tanker, and a team of operatives are on standby..."

__

On the Crime Scene:

"Blockades up, Captain!" I heard over the radio. I signaled to the other five members of Recon Tango A to move forward, where out of the distance, I saw the tanker barrel towards the line.

"He's not going to want to stop, fellas," I stated. "Just be careful that we don't damage that tank. The chemical inside will kill us all. Gas masks are a must!" The tanker came closer. "OK," he started. "Shoot for the tires. Aim true, men." They began opening fire. 

__

Chris, Once again, back at home:

"..the S.R.U. operatives have opened fire on the tanker! Repeat, S.R.U. has opened fire!" Claire heard rumble over the television. "But the tanker is still coming!!" She tried to choke back tears, but found she wasn't able to.

"Shhh..." I sighed. "He'll be OK."

__

Leon, at the scene:

"God damn it!" one of the men shouted. "The thing's still coming at us! For God's sake, what do we do?"

"Clear the blockade!" I shouted. "Hurry!" The officers did as ordered, and I jumped into a Jeep. 

"Kennedy, what the hell are you doing?!" Bruce shouted. I ignored him.

It fired up, and the tanker drew closer. I pulled over to the side of the road, as the tanker on six flat tires roared by. I followed in hot pursuit. I was determined to stop the damn truck...even if it meant losing my life.

__

Chris:

"...We've got footage of one of the S.R.U. officers...wait a minute, our men on the scene have confirmed that the lone officer in pursuit of the tanker is Captain Leon S. Kennedy, the man in command of the Chicago S.R.U. He seems to be attempting to run the tanker down..."

This was too much for Claire to handle. She collapsed on the floor, violently sobbing. I knelt down and embraced her tightly, too frightened to stand. Sherry stood as tall and rigid as a stone, however, as she watched the lone Jeep Wrangler chase the semi.

"I know you can do it..." she whispered.

__

Leon:

I flung off the gas mask as I swerved right, and closer to the tanker. I saw that there were two Arabic men, and the driver was in between them, bound and gagged. I pulled away from the truck, and then swerved back in. The passenger handed the driver an automatic pistol, and he began firing at the Jeep.

"Dammit," I breathed. I swerved in closer to the truck, and then, in a short stint of adrenaline and bravery, I leapt from the Jeep and landed on the running boards on the gas tank of the truck. I pulled out a weapon that had seen me through rough times before...a .50 caliber action express Desert Eagle magnum. 

"Here goes nothing," I breathed as I reached for the door handle, and I saw the Jeep ram through a billboard post and explode into a ball of flames.

__

Chris:

"...the Jeep has been just destroyed...oh my God! Captain Kennedy is on board the truck, hanging off the steps! This isn't looking good, ladies and gentlemen..." Claire looked up, and through teary eyes she saw footage of Leon hanging on to a rail next to the door, holding a gun in hand. In her heart, she felt as she had already lost her husband. I could do nothing but hold her.

__

Leon:

I heard muddled Arabic as I clung for dear life on the unstable truck. The driver was attempting to shake me off as he swerved from left to right. However, I found the inner strength to pull myself up, and I slammed a gloved fist through the driver's side glass and connected with the driver's temple. The passenger reached for the pistol, but was met with a shot in the neck with the magnum, nearly decapitating him. I fired again, this time in the chest of the nearly unconscious terrorist driver.

"Open the door!!" I shouted to the gagged driver. The young Hispanic man looked at me for a minute, causing me to shout again. This time, he used his elbow to open the huge door. I holstered his gun, and threw the dead driver out onto the highway. I then swung into the driver's seat, and stomped the brake of the truck. The truck began to slide and it nearly tipped over. I simply kept my foot on the brake, and kept a steely resonance as I sat in the truck, and never once the thought did the thought cross my mind that I could die.

__

Chris:

"...Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, it is a true miracle! Captain Kennedy has superhumanly stopped the tanker. Oh, of all the years that I've been in this business, I've never witnessed something like this!" Claire looked up once again, to see the tanker sideways in the middle of the road, and a dizzy Leon stumbled out, walked behind the truck, and from what Claire knew of her husband, he vomited. I simply stood her up, and she hugged me tightly.

"I told ya, sis," I said. "I told ya he'd make it fine.

__

Leon:

"Mission accomplished, Demo 1 leader," I gasped into the two-way radio, spitting bile from my throat. "Send in recovery. Close the highway." I then fell to the ground, sat up, and leaned against the front wheel of the tanker truck. I saw an ambulance pull up, and I leaned back and closed my eyes.

"Captain!" I heard someone shout. "Are you all right?" I opened my eyes, and saw a young paramedic standing over me. 

"I'm OK, pal," I said. "Just a little thirsty." The paramedic signaled over to someone over in the ambulance, and a bottle of water was flung threw the air.

"Here you go, Cap," he said. "Man, that was incredible. It looked like something from the movies." Then he walked off, leaving me resting against the flattened tire of a tanker truck carrying the most deadly biohazard ever known to mankind.

__

A few hours later...

"What I want to know is how the fuck did these nut jobs get a tanker full of T-Virus extract?" I shouted to the other two captains in the office. I paced back and forth behind his large desk, as Bruce and the captain of Demo 1, Matthew Pierce, sat in front.

"Well, Leon, the truck came out of a cleanup site," Matthew, a slightly small, lean blonde headed man said. "Came out of a chemical plant in Paducah, Kentucky. Headed for a dump site in Detroit. Somehow, these two Arabs got it at a truck stop or something. The driver says they were making a beeline for Ontario."

"Ontario..." I whispered, looking out a window at the darkened night sky. Bruce pulled a paper out of a manila folder, and looked at it.

"I'm not so sure they were terrorists, guys," he warned. "They could have been working for something...or someone... bigger."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my attention clearly drawn.

"We found this folder in the truck," he said, tossing it to me. "Papers from an S. O'Donovan. Shows fueling times, loading times, etcetera, etcetera. But it also shows a drop-off point."

"Where?" I said, rummaging through the papers.

"Right here," Bruce said, handing me that one sheet.

" TO: ABDUL HASID OMAR, RAID SF UNIT DELTA

CC: MUHAMMAD SAHIB, RAID SF UNIT DELTA: VICENTE GOMEZ, SMS 

UNIT A6 ONTARIO

SUB: T-BASE SHIPMENT

ABDUL:

THE SHIPMENT IS BEING PROCURED AT THE PADUCAH CLEANUP AS 

SPECIFIED IN THE FILE. THIS OPERATION IS BEING MADE TO LOOK 

NOT AS IT IS. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, HOPEFULLY. BE CAREFUL 

IN THE AREA WE SPOKE OF EARLIER. THOSE THERE ARE BOUND

TO START TROUBLE. SO TACTICAL 7784-A IS IN PROCESS. DO NOT

FAIL. DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME. DROP OFF IN U-NEO FACILITY ONTARIO AS WE DISCUSSED. THE PRESIDENT IS LOOKING 

FORWARD TO YOUR ARRIVAL. 

O'DONOVAN"

"Oh no..." I gasped. "No, please, for the love of God, no!" I threw the file down on the desk, plopped down in the chair, and buried my head in my hands.

"Kennedy, what's wrong?" Matthew asked. "What's going on?"

"Get Thompson in here now," I said in a near whisper. "Tell him that it's important." Matthew stood up, nodded, and left the room.

"Leon, this may be nothing at all," Bruce warned. "This stationary could be years old...we aren't even sure on the identities of the men yet. Don't overreact." 

"Is that Mexican driver still in Interrogation?" I asked.

"Yep," Bruce replied. "Why?"

"I want a full check on him...name, ID, birthplace, hell, I want to know what the bastard had for dinner on January 9, 1977. Thorough...be _very _thorough," I answered. Bruce turned from the room as Ark Thompson entered.

"What is it, man?" he asked, standing in a corner. "I'm tired, my shift's about over, and I'm ready to go home."

"Read this," I said, standing up and handing Ark the memo. Ark read through it, his face contorting in sheer terror.

"Aw, shit, man," he gasped. "Aw, _fuck_." 

"My sentiments exactly," I said, sitting back down. "What do we do?"

"First off, we hide this," Ark said seriously. "We'll do a little undercover work on our own. Try to find out if this is real and where it originated from. Then, depending on the circumstances, we might or might not reveal it."

"What good will that do?" I asked. "We just need to reveal it now."

"It'd get lost in the bowels of bureaucracy, and we'd never hear from it again," Ark said. "Plus, NEO might have people in the inside already."

"Good thinking," I said. "And there's one person that I know that can help us out..."

"Barry." Ark's voice was full of finality.

"As much as I'd thought I would never say it," I laughed. "But you're right. Barry's the man for the job."

"You're right," Ark replied. "I'd never believe we'd say Barry was the man for _any_ job. Well, see you tomorrow, man. I'm going home. Tell Claire and Sherry I said hi."

"What about Chris?" I asked quizzically. 

"What?!" Ark flipped. "You mean..."

"Yep," I answered.

"I think I'm going to come over for a while tonight, pal."

__

A new Revelation:

Even in the confines of my bedroom, I could still hear Chris and Ark. I had come up here about an hour ago, and well, after the events of that morning, I had every reason to be tired. I rolled over and looked at the clock. The red LCD display flashed 11:30. And still, I could hear them. Every once in a while, I could hear Sherry's laughter break in.

"Damn," I growled, and rolled back over. I heard the door creak open, and soft footsteps tread across the floor.

"Hey," it was Claire. "You still awake?"

"One question you can never say 'no' to," I mumbled as I rolled over again to face her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, kneeling down beside me, resting her arms on the bed. "You just seemed really distant tonight."

"I'm just tired," I replied. "Busy day."

"No kidding," she laughed. "You had us all scared."

"You think you were," I said, throwing the comforter off and sitting up.

"I know we were," she said, a hint of anger in her voice. "I've never see you do something like that. What came over you?" Those words brought back the memory of what that tanker was carrying...and the memo found in the cab. I stood up, walked over to our dresser, and pulled the folder out of my sock drawer. Claire stood up and followed me; I handed her the memo. As she read it, fear seemed to creep over her composure.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered, almost crying. "What the hell does this mean?" 

"That tanker was carrying a strain of the T-Virus. It was a base, and it was highly dangerous," I solemnly replied. "That's why I went to such extreme measures to take down that tanker."

"What's going to happen?" she asked. "Surely we can turn this against them."

"I'm not sure," I answered. "We're not sure of the authenticity. And we don't even know who O'Donovan is. So, for right now, there's not a whole lot we can do." She suddenly burst into tears, and I tightly embraced her. For a moment that felt like an eternity, I felt her tears run down my shoulder. Then, we were in for a _big_ surprise.

"_Hola!"_ we heard from a loud, tenor, Latino voice from the living room.

"No way," Claire said, wiping her eyes as she smiled.

"That's what I'm thinking," I replied. "Why don't we take a look?"

__

The Uninvited Guest:

"Look who woke up all of a sudden!" Chris laughed. I shook my head as I walked down the stairs. "Here comes Superman!" he roared.

"Bite me, Joe Camel," I snidely replied. "Or would that be the Marlboro Man?" Chris laughed again.

"Man, I haven't had a smoke in eighteen hours," he laughed, his hand slightly trembling as it had this morning. "And it's killing me."

"Probably no faster than the cigs were doing you," Ark said, leaning back in a recliner. 

"Ain't that the truth," Chris replied.

"So what? No one pays attention to me?" I turned to my left, and there stood a tall, skinny South American in blue jeans, a heavy blue parka, and a Santa hat carrying a box.

"Where the hell did you come from?" I asked the grinning Carlos Olivera.

"Flew in this morning," he said. "Just in time to see you kick terrorist's ass, _mi amigo!_"

__

"So what are you doing around Chicago?" Claire asked.

"Had to fly in load of car parts from New Mexico," he said. "I fly for transfer service now."

"No shit," Chris said. "You got a pilot's license now?"

"Uh-huh," he said energetically. "Fly all around U.S. now. My kind of life."

"So you gave up on sunshine and senoritas, huh?" I laughed.

"Not yet," he answered. "Never give that up, you know." That brought another fresh round of laughter.

"Have a seat, take a load off," Sherry said. 

"Well, since you offered," he replied. "I guess I can't turn down that offer!"

__

BRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGG!

"Perfect," Chris groaned.

"I'll get it," Sherry stated, jumping up. "Probably for me anyways."

"Oh, I don't know," I butted in. I had found the perfect time to absolutely embarrass her. "Could it be, oh, let's say, _Keith_ again?" Everyone erupted in laughter yet again. "He's been calling quite frequently lately." Sherry's face turned red, and she stormed off.

"She popular with the boys, huh?" Carlos asked, now out of the parka and in a blue sweater, still with the stupid hat on.

"Oh yeah," Claire answered. "But she just blows it all off. She thinks it's funny."

"I know," I stated, sitting next to my wife. "It's just all one big joke."

"She'll come around," Chris said. "Heck, you never went regular with a guy until you're senior year in high school, Claire. Give her some time."

"I know, I know," she replied. "But everything...it's just taken such a toll on her. I can't see how she'll ever live a normal life. She pulls away from almost everyone. She has a lot of friends, but..." Claire was interrupted by a elated shriek. Sherry flew back into the living room and stood in front of the group.

"You'll never believe who that was..." she began.

"How'd she take it?" she asked, hovering over my shoulder as I hung up the phone outside the snow-covered parking lot of the truck stop at the Illinois-Iowa border.

"She's ecstatic," I replied, a smile on my face. "And I'm ecstatic about getting out of this cold. Come on, let's get the hell out of here."

"Whoa, hold on a minute," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "You mean to tell me we spend three years in Michigan _before_ you tell me that you don't like cold weather?" I couldn't help but laugh. Rebecca Chambers definitely didn't look intimidating, as hard as she may try.

"Yep," I answered, heading back for the Camaro. "What are _you_ going to do about it?" She began to laugh, and she shook her head.

"Seth Hartford, sometimes I wonder why I even bother with you," she mockingly scorned.

"Sometimes, I wonder too," I responded. 

"Smart ass," she mused.

"Thank you very much," I answered. "I'm proud someone's finally recognizes my work."

"Just get back in the car," she said. "Come on, we've got some traveling to do."

"You can't be serious," Claire gasped as Sherry broke the news. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Sherry gleefully stated. "They're at the state line now. They expect to be here by 1 AM." Everyone suddenly got excited. However...I knew what could happen. U-NEO knew where we were. And with most all of us together...

"I don't like the idea," I flatly said. Everyone stopped to look at me. I stood, watching the snow fall outside the door.

"Why not?" Chris said. "It'll be like a big family reunion. I'm fine with it."

"Yeah," Jill added. "What's wrong Leon?" I turned around, and headed up the stairs to my bedroom. I walked in, picked up the folder from the nightstand, and returned. Everyone was still watching me when I came back down, and I threw the folder on the coffee table. 

"There's what's wrong with me," I replied. Ark held his head in his hands.

"Leon, I thought we made a decision on this, man," he said. 

"Well, now the circumstances have changed," I replied. Nobody had touched the folder. "Go ahead. Read it." Chris picked up the folder, and began fishing through the procedure reports that had accompanied the memo. Everyone else looked over his shoulder as he read them, a quizzical look crossing his face.

"Leon, what the hell is this?!" he almost blasted. "What the hell!"

"That truck we stopped today..." I began. "It wasn't a hijacking. It was only made to look like one. However, someone at a cleanup site in Paducah, Kentucky didn't know about it, and said that the truck was stolen."

"What was it carrying?" Jill asked.

"The T-Base Virus," I answered. "The T-Virus we had encountered before had been a slightly diluted version, in order to keep cells from being eradicated immediately. The T-Base is pure virus: any contact would be lethal upon first contact. No rotting...no zombies...basically it would eat your insides out within seconds."

"And they were carrying this by _truck?!"_ Chris exploded. "How god-damned _stupid_ are these bastards?"

"My thought exactly," Carlos softly said. "Why this? Why now?"

"I don't know," I answered. "But I know something...we have to take care of this."

"And just what can we do?" Jill asked. "None of us are really in position to be able to pin this on Umbrella."

"One of us is," I answered.

"And who would that be?" Jill shot back.

"Barry," I answered. 

"My God, you're a genius," Chris said. "That's actually a good idea."

"What about Barry?" Carlos asked. "He just stupid redneck. What good will he do?"

"That_ stupid redneck,_ Carlos, just happens to be the Midwestern Director of Agent Operations for S.T.A.R.S.," Chris answered. "And he's got some awesome hackers working for him. There's no telling what he could do."

"Wow," Carlos answered. "Stupid redneck with really important job. Who knew?" Somehow, that elicited laughter from all.

"This is serious, guys," I said, standing in front of the crowd. "And when Seth gets here, we're going to have to figure out a plan." 

__

Ontario, Canada:

"You were right, sir. The truck was overtaken by our little friend Kennedy."

"As I knew. Sahib and Omar are dead, right? What about Gomez?"

"He's in custody. They're interrogating the heck out of him."

"I want him dead."

"How?"

"I don't care. In fact...I want them _all_ dead. Kennedy...Redfield...all of them."

"I can get a squad down there."

"Then do it...now."

__

Wow. Something's about to hit the fan. Who's O'Donovan? Why was he attempting to acquire the T-Base Virus? And what will happen to our heroes? These questions and more answered in the next installment!

p.s.: Sorry for the long wait! I'm trying to juggle my five different writing projects, two jobs, choir, band, speech, and a relationship right now, so I hope you can forgive me! I hope to have more posted soon!


	4. No Escape

****

EYES OF THE BEHOLDER

CHAPTER FOUR: NO ESCAPE

__

So Seth's on the way with Becky. Carlos is already here. Jill, Chris, Claire, Sherry, Ark, me. All here. Right where they want us. And there's not a damn thing we can do about it...

"What're you thinking about?" I turned around, and Sherry was coming down the stairs. I leaned back on the couch, propped my feet up on the coffee table, and Sherry sat down beside me.

"Oh...it's nothing, kiddo," I answered. "I'm just thinking."

"Come on, Leon," she said, annoyance in her voice. "I heard the whole Umbrella-discussion thing. I know what's going on, and I know why you're worried. I just want to know what you think will happen."

"Sherry, I don't know," I said, standing up. "I just don't know."

"Well, if anyone can figure it out," she answered. "Then it would be you."

"And why does it have to be me?" I asked her. "Haven't I done enough already?"

"It has to be you because..." she began. "Because you've been the leader. Everyone looks up to you...respects you. I may be young, but even I can see it. If anyone can put a stop to this, then it would be you."

I just stood there in silence.

"You've beat them once before, Leon," she said. "You can do it again. And we're all behind you. Don't forget that." She then rose and began to ascend up the stairs.

"Sherry!" I called after her.

"What?"

"Thank you." She just smiled, and continued up the stairs. I still just stood there, her words echoing in my head. I was the leader. It was up to me. And I had to do something about it. And that's exactly what I was prepared to do. _I hope you're ready, Umbrella. Here comes Leon S. Kennedy._

I had been in constant contact over the past few days with Barry Burton, an old member of ENDGAME (the US Military Unit created to combat Umbrella-NEO, which I commanded), who now served as the S.T.A.R.S. Midwestern Regional Commander. He assured me that he would personally oversee the siphoning of dozens of corporate files over the past year. I wasn't so sure. I wanted something a little more tangible...kind of like a strike team or something. However, he explained it in very simple terms:

"That won't work," I heard over the telephone receiver as I sat in my VHPD office. "You seem to forget they are on foreign soil. Without a sanction from the Canadian Parliament, we're basically up Crap Creek without a paddle."

"I guess you're right," I groaned. "It's just...Claire...Martin...all of them. Who's to say that they won't just barge right in here and wipe us off the face of the Earth?"

"Once again, Leon," Barry said. "They'd have to cross into foreign soil. It's amazing how they did it just to get that tanker."

"It is, isn't it?" I mused into the phone. "So what do you propose we do?"

"I've got an idea," Barry answered. "If you'd accept to it."

"What would that be?" I asked.

"Wouldn't it be just convenient for the S.T.A.R.S. Midwestern Commander to take a little visit to Chicago and the Metro Area Special Response Unit, especially after the whole T-Base Virus deal?" he shot back.

"I think I'm catching on," I answered.

"So while I'm down there, supposedly meeting with the S.R.U. Commander about this whole matter, while in the meantime we break their system together," he said. "That way we can have what we need in the palm of our hands, and it would really improve your case."

"Barry, I'd think I'd never say this," I answered. "But you are a genius." 

"Of course I am," he boomed. "Look, I'm going to get started on it right away. But the quickest I can get there is a week from Sunday. It'd be best if you could start fishing around for some reports yourself, and get Ark started on it too."

"A week from Sunday," I repeated. "Sounds good to me.

"We don't need to really wait around," Barry said. "This is a very urgent matter. So try and get a little bit done before I get there."

"OK," Leon said. "I'll try to get Seth to help me."

"Probably your best bet," Barry answered. "The kid's a genius when it comes to stuff like that. Kinda runs in the family, right?"

"Not funny, Barry. Really not funny," I groaned. Seth's family life was extremely complicated. In fact, so complicated, that I'm not even going to focus on that right now. I've explained it before in past notes, and I'll get into it much deeper as my story goes on. But for now, let's just drop the matter.

"Yeah, you're right," he said. Then I heard something back in the distance. "Well, business calls, Leon. Week from Sunday."

"All right. See you then." I hung up the phone, and leaned back in my office chair. I looked around a minute, and I picked up the phone and dialed Ark's extension.

"Thompson," I heard a gruff answer at the other end of the phone.

"It's Leon," I said. "I've got some good news."

"Really?" his voice became a little more interested. "What's up?"

"I just got off the phone with Barry," I began.

"What did he have to say?"

"He'll be here in a week," I said. "He's very interested in helping us with this."

"Good," Ark said. "So, about a week, huh?"

"Dumbass, that's what I just said," I groaned.

"Oh, give me a break!"

__

Meanwhile...

An unknown place

An unknown time

"So, they're putting us up to this one, eh?" one of the olive-green uniformed men asked the similarly dressed captain.

"Yes, Jenkins," the captain: a tall, muscular bald man said. "We're Nova-4 squad, right?" he asked the six others.

"Here's the thing:," Jenkins, a slightly smaller, redheaded man began. "We may be Nova-4, but we're not criminals. The boss is just asking for murder here. I'm not so sure that this can be justified."

"I don't like it much either," the captain, who's name was Gary Travis, answered. "But the President wants it done, and it's not our position to question orders."

"He's right, Adam," another man, Fallon Moore, a quick, tall man said. "We can't question O'Donovan. He's in charge."

"Enough, enough, enough," Travis interrupted. "I know everyone's here, but I've gotta do this for the Prez's record. Jenkins, Adam!"

"Here."

"Barrett, Jameson!"

"Here, sir!"

"Venera, Christopher!"

"Here, boss."

"Moore, Fallon!"

"Right here."

"Ventura, Maria!"

"Here."

"Ginovef, Nicholai!"

"Present."

"Good," Travis answered. "Let's get to business. We've got a new assignment, as you all have known. Vice President O'Donovan, who due to the President's current...situation...is acting president, has made an attempt to acquire a shipment of the T-Base Virus, the raw root of the T-Virus. Two of our operatives were killed, and the third...well, our little ploy didn't work. Because of the work of the Chicago Metro S.R.U., namely Captain Leon S. Kennedy, our truck was confiscated and our last operative was found out and now sits in interrogation. Now, turn your attention to the operation order found in your folders, please."

The six of them of opened up black folders that lined the long metal table.

"As you can see, everything has been procured for our departure. So, there should be no worrying about getting stateside."

"Stop shooting the shit, dammit," Maria Ventura, the only woman on the squad, said. "What are we doing here? Why the hell are we going to this shithole little town?"

"Haven't you heard?" Fallon Moore, the squad pilot, answered. "We're knocking off Kennedy and the Redfields."

"Well, to put it simply," Travis stated. "Then yes. We're to kill Vicente Gomez, SMS special operative, and finish the job with the Kennedys, Redfield, Valentine, and the Birkins. Quick strike, in and out within eight hours."

"So they send in RAID Nova-4. We always get their little dirty jobs, man," Jameson Barrett, one of the two team snipers complained.

"OK, enough bitching," Travis said. "I hope you all can understand that this is a very important undertaking. O'Donovan wouldn't just give this to anyone. Anyways, consider this a career boost."

"There's still something I don't like about this," Christopher answered. "What if they see us? Anyways, how do we shoot a guy in jail?"

"That's why I'm here," Ginovef said, a thick Russian accent in his voice. 

"And just why are you here?" Fallon inquired. "Since when did we take in Umbrella's old grunts?"

"I'll show you grunt, kid," Nicholai growled.

"Enough, you two!" Travis fumed. "Ginovef was selected by the Prez himself to fit into Nova-4 as a second sniper, whom we're really going to need. Because that's how we're disposing of Gomez."

"And the rest of 'em?" Maria inquired. 

"I was hoping you'd ask that," Travis mused. "Because that's going to be the fun part."

"And that will be..." Jameson began.

"Tactical Strike drills," Travis answered. "TSR No. 9942-A."

"Frontal Assault," Christopher laughed. "That _is_ what the 9942-A is, right?"

"Yep," Travis answered. "Chopper departs in 30. Get your gear ready, and be on time, this time guys."

__

Nightmares are Real...

"Hey, Ark!" the desk sergeant shouted as I walked in. "Got some news on that Gomez guy!"

"What's up?" I asked.

"Finally cracked," he replied. "Admitted that the whole hijacking thing was a get-up. He mentioned some Shannon O'Donovan guy, but he still refuses to say who he's working for." O'Donovan. That was the clincher.

"Good work," I said, heading for my office. "Get a hold of Leon for me. Patch him through to my office."

"Yes, sir," the sergeant replied. I walked into the office, and plopped down into the desk chair, releasing a huge sigh. The guy had finally spilled some, and O'Donovan's name had come up. So...put two and two together...

Brrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnng!

I picked up the phone. "Lieutenant Thompson here," I answered.

"It's Leon. What's up?"

"I'm glad you called. We got Gomez to crack."

"And..." he impatiently stated.

"O'Donovan's name was mentioned. I think that the memo was legit." I answered.

"Great!" he exulted. "Barry will be here in a couple of days...so for now, let's keep it under wraps."

"Gotcha, boss." I answered. "But I think I'm going to talk to him myself."

"Who, Barry?"

"No, Gomez."

"Hey, go for it," Leon answered. "Just don't do anything stupid."

"Gotcha, boss," I replied and hung up. I stood up and prepared to open the office door, when I heard a scream.

"God!" someone shouted. "Sniper!" I froze. Snipers...but suddenly I knew who they were after...Gomez.

"Get down!" I shouted. _Pfft!_ I heard another shot fire. Out of reflex, I pulled my Browning-HP from the holster, and I rushed through the halls of the station into the holding area. Bruce Mason was already leaned against a wall next to Gomez's cell, MP5 in hand.

"One," he gasped. "Got a small rifle, a P-73 or maybe smaller. They've already clocked Gomez." I poked my head up and gazed through the small plexi-glass window, and saw Gomez lifeless, bleeding body collapsed on the floor.

"It has to be Umbrella," I responded. "They're the only ones who'd want Gomez."

"Kinda what I was thinkin', brother," Bruce answered. "But...what about Leon?" I stood and thought for a minute. 

"Oh, fuck," I groaned. "Come on, we gotta get out there. Get Davis and Craft. And grab five more of those MP5s. Follow up. I'm going to try and beat them out there."

"Gotcha," Bruce said, running for the weapons locker. I pulled my cell phone out of the case on my belt. I hit the speed-dial for Leon's number.

"Hey, Leon," I began. "We've got a serious problem..."

"I got a real bad feeling about this, Seth," Becky said as I pulled the Camaro onto Washington Drive, the street on which Leon lived. "Something's not feeling right."

"Just relax," I replied, putting my free arm around her shoulders. I slowed the car and pulled into their driveway. "Everything's going to be OK." I turned the car off, and we began to make our way through the front yard to the front door. I knocked on the door. Claire threw the door open, her face a pasty shade of white.

"Oh God," she said. "Get in here, now."

"What's wrong?" I asked, confused. She didn't really seem happy to see us.

"They're back," she answered. "And they're coming." Becky and I quickly entered the house, and saw Leon, Chris, Carlos, Jill, and Sherry all standing, similar looks of panic on their faces.

"What the hell's going on here?" I asked.

"U-NEO," I answered Seth. 

"Jesus, Leon," he muttered. "Now?"

"Looks like it," I replied. "They just assassinated one of their own operatives, and Ark thinks they're on their way here."

"Fuck," Seth blurted. "We've got a god-damned death squad coming after us? Then why are we all just standing here?!"

"If you want to help, big boy," I heard a familiar voice shout from outside. "Then get out here and get these damn guns." Ark came running in with another officer, a large black man. Good old Bruce. Each was carrying two MP5 assault rifles.

"Here comes the fuckin'-A cavalry, man," Bruce, the large black man shouted in his husky deep voice. He tossed me an MP5. Ark threw one to Chris. 

"There's two more," Ark said. Seth dashed outside quickly, and came back in with them. He threw one to Jill, and the other to Claire.

"What'll you use?" I asked. He gave a wide smile, and pulled something out of the pocket of his jacket. It was Barry's .45.

"I've got all I need right here," he beamed.

"OK," I said. "Ark, this sounds kind of stupid, but you need to get on the roof. Make sure that you keep in cover. They won't be dropping from choppers in this kind of weather. They'll probably be in a street vehicle. When you see anything suspicious, shout. Take aim, and then let them have it. Fire three rounds, then try to get into the back yard and back into the house. Seth, Chris, and Jill: you guys take cover here in the living room. They're going to try a frontal, I think. When they come through, fire just long enough to distract them, and then head for the stairs. Bruce, you'll provide cover fire from the top of the banister. I'll be waiting for Ark in the kitchen, waiting to take out any stragglers that try to follow. Claire, you need to get Sherry, Becky, and the baby into the basement, and then stay on the staircase to make sure that nobody gets down there. If anyone gets close, just keep firing. Becky, keep the door locked from the inside, and keep the kids against the side walls. If something happens to Claire...there's a .303 British rifle sitting against the wall, and there's a box of thirty shells. Now, the rifle will kick, but you have to keep the kids safe. Carlos, you follow me." Carlos, who pulled a .44 Ruger from his coat, nodded.

"OK," I said. "Let's send them a _clear_ signal, guys. They're not going to fuck with us any longer. Let's pick up where we left off in New York." Somberly, they all nodded. "Take your positions, then." I added. 

_There will be no escape this time,_ I thought. _Either for them or for us, but this time...no escape._

What will befall our heroes when the Umbrella-NEO strike force arrives? Will they deliver their signal, or will they finally meet their end? Find out in the next installment of Eyes of the Beholder!


	5. Exodus

****

EYES OF THE BEHOLDER

CHAPTER FIVE: EXODUS

__

We Own the Night:

"Like old times, huh?" Chris whispered as I crouched beneath the front window, pulling the hammer on the .45 Python.

"Seems it's always something," I growled back. "I guess they just don't know how to give up."

"I hear ya," he replied from his position behind the large leather couch. "Maybe this time they'll get the picture."

"Guys!" Jill rasped. "Keep quiet! We're trying _not_ to let the enemy know we're here." Chris turned to say something, but I held a hand up.

"Shhh! I hear something…"

Trust me, laying on your stomach on an ice-covered roof isn't the greatest thrill in the world. In fact, it's kinda a pain in the ass…well…a pain in another area, unnamed but yet implied. Get the drift? Good. Even worse, I was up there trying to watch for something that was nowhere to be found. I decided to sit up for a minute, shouldered my MP5 assault rifle, and sighed. The minutes were passing on like hours. Hmmm…I guess that's how it is when you're waiting for a death squad to come and blow you to bits. But still, it was them or us…and I've been through way too much to just give up now. Yet there was no sight of any strange activity on the streets. No sound of choppers overhead. Just the slow, peaceful snowfall and the quiet of the night. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they didn't think enough of our little group to try anything…

Until I heard the roar of a diesel engine about a mile down the road. 

"Carlos, listen to me," I said as we got into the kitchen. "I'm changing the plan. You need to get out of here and back to the airport. We're going to use that Gulfstream to get the hell out of Dodge." He stood there for a moment, gun in hand and tacky Santa hat still on his head, and he finally nodded.

"But how will I get there?" he asked. "I came here by taxi." I reached into my pocket and pulled out the keys to the Ram.

"Here," I said, tossing them to him. "Now hurry, before the action…"

**_BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM!!!_**

"Starts."

He put the keys on the table and shouldered the MP5, getting into a crouched position. I followed his form, and kept my ears open. After Ark's initial shots, there was nothing…

"WHOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAA!" Then I heard the sound of something falling off of the roof.

"Cover fire, Carlos!" I shouted as I broke through the back door. I kept my rifle at ready as I ran barefoot through the snow towards the form of my friend. I stopped and helped him up off the ground, and he began brushing snow off of his VHPD uniform, which was soaked.

"That's the last time I get dragged into sniper duty, buddy," he laughed.

_Pfft!_ No wonder I heard no return fire. The bastards were using silenced weapons. I saw an armored head poke out from behind the fence, and it was quickly rewarded with a three round burst to the face. 

"At least you got the armor piercing stuff," I told Ark. Deciding that there would be a better time for banter, we then made way for the door.

"Two of 'em around back!!" I heard a Slavic voice shout. "They got Venera!" 

"Let's get while the getting's good," I said, using one of my dad's favorite catch phrases.

"Agreed," Ark replied, as we ran through the snow back into the kitchen. Carlos stood there, rifle in hand, concern on his face.

"You guys OK?" he asked.

"Just peachy," Ark returned, trying to bring a little light into the situation. We stood monitoring the back door, waiting for 'Venera's' buddies to come after us…until we heard the front door begin banging.

"GET DOWN!!" Seth shouted as he ran for the door, putting the pistol in his jeans. Jill and I happily obliged, ducking behind the leather couch. The failed bioweapon (and all-around good guy) heaved his heavy frame against the door and held firmly. 

"Jesus, you're going to get yourself killed!" I shouted.

"Don't you remember Lansing?" he asked. "Bullets don't last long in me."

"Yeah, but I also remember the Ge-3," Jill shot back. Seth just retained his steely countenance and held the door firmly in place. Finally, they stopped pounding.

"See, I told you," he said. Just then, I heard two soft, but audible beeps.

"Oh, shit," I shouted. "Move! Now!!" Jill and I rushed up the stairs and met up with Bruce, where we took cover in the hallway. Seth still refused to move.

__

BBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!

The door blew open and collapsed on Sherry's brother as four black-armored soldiers ran in, weapons at ready, searching the room.

"I'm going to open fire," I told Jill and Bruce. However, Jill saw a little bit of stirring beneath the shattered door, and held me back.

"Just wait," she said. "Give us the element of surprise." We watched in the shadows as the soldiers searched about the room, and finally returned their focus on the 'lifeless' body underneath the door.

"This must be the one that O'Donovan wanted," a female voice said. "That G-enesis thing. Get him to the van." Two of the thugs bent down and lifted the door from on top of Seth. They grabbed his arms, and with a rush of surprise, he sprang to life, grabbed their heads, and knocked them together, surely killing them on impact. The other two began to open fire, but Seth didn't seem to notice the bullets as they ripped through his torso, because he broke the neck of one of the assailants. 

"Jesus," the woman shouted, and turned to run. Seth pulled the .45 from his waistband and fired three shots, killing her before she could get out the door. Leon, Ark, and Carlos all came running into the living room, MP5s at ready, just in time to see Seth's body eject the bullets and heal itself. He stood, chest heaving, and he collapsed to one knee.

"Seth!" Leon shouted as we heard the cargo van squeal away, more than likely with the few survivors of the attack. He stayed on one knee as Leon put a hand on his back, as the three of us came down the stairs, with the others coming up from the basement.

"I'm…OK," he gasped between labored breaths as he rose to his feet. "Haven't had…to…do that…in a while." Becky put her hands on his shoulders as his breathing slowly returned to normal.

"Come on, sit down," she said, moving him over to the couch. 

"Not now…there's still more," he replied.

"Only one, and he hauled ass in the van," Ark stated. "They tried to come in through the back, and we let them have it."

"We sure didn't hear it," I replied. "Must have been too caught up with Seth's adventures here." The rest of us all tried to sit in the devastated living room, but few of us could. 

"OK," I finally said after a moment of quiet. "Leon, what the hell do we do?"

I stood and looked at everyone in the room, who had turned to me for an answer. I couldn't think, I couldn't contrive…my mind was blank. I paced around the living room trying to find an answer for the question. I felt everyone's eyes on me, but finally Bruce spoke up.

"We need to get you all out of here," he said. "That Carlos guy can hop you all out to wherever he's going. I'll take care of Gray and everyone at the station, let them know what happened."

"Thanks," I replied. "I guess that's it. We pack up tonight, and leave at dawn tomorrow," I said. "Carlos, we're going to go back with you, so make whatever calls you have to, and get us situated. Ark, while I let Barry in on this, I'm going to have you call an old friend of ours."

"Who?" he asked.

"Do you still have your little black book you used in Internal Affairs?" I asked in return.

"Yeah, should."

"Get a hold of Mick Stevens. 'Cause he's going to help us get out of this one."

__

A Simple Ploy:

"We've lost everyone. They were waiting." The phone receiver felt heavy in my hand as I awaited the president's comment.

"I was ready for that possibility. These people are extremely intelligent, highly trained. The worst enemy we could imagine."

"Ginovef was our only survivor. He said Genesis went on a rampage, killing four of our men himself. He's the true danger, in my mind." I answered. 

I hated having to contradict the president, especially in the condition he was. But the facts were the facts. Hartford was dangerous.

"He may be, but don't forget the rest of them," the president said. "Commander Travis, do not let this discourage you. Your men were good, but obviously they weren't good enough. Nova-4 will not be restructured. Instead, I'm placing you as RAID commander. I…relieved Commander Peters of his duties."

I was stunned at the accommodation. "Why…thank you sir. I will not be a disappointment."

"Of course," the president replied. "But am I assured that you will spend your every waking hour to bringing these people down?"

"All day, every day."

"Good," Albert Wesker replied. "Now, I have a surprise for them, especially the Redfield siblings. They're in air with that Olivera from the defunct UBCS. I want three of our stateside choppers from Phoenix to intercept this Gulfstream as it makes its way to Desert Paradise. Then, take them to our holding facility in the area. Our specimen has already arrived, and is awaiting them."

"Will do, Mr. President."

__

Three hours later…

Above Arizona…

Sunrise:

I stirred to life in the modified cargo hold of the Gulfstream, pushing myself from the dusty floor of the plane, and stretching my aching back. Everyone was still asleep: Leon and Claire on a bench in the back, Martin in Sherry's arms; Seth and Becky curled up near the door, Ark was stretched out in one of the few remaining seats, and Bruce, the SRU lieutenant that had accompanied us, was in a seat across from him. I gingerly stepped through the cramped hold and looked out one of the windows. The Arizona sun had begun to rise over the desert sands, and it was eerily reminiscent of the Iraqi mornings I remembered from the early nineties.

"Pretty sight, isn't it?" I heard from behind me. Jill had risen, and was standing at my side.

"First time I can remember seeing something like that and _not_ being in the cockpit of an F18," I laughed.

"Try a tricked-out Gulfstream," she replied. We sat down on a bench next to the window, and continued to admire the scene. As I watched the desert sands beneath me, the events of the past night racing through my mind.

"Why in the hell did they come back?" I asked, more to myself than to Jill.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "But I think we sent a very clear message."

"Yeah, don't fuck with us," I laughed, then let out a sigh. 

"Is something bothering you, Chris?" she asked, a concern evident in her voice.

"I don't know," I replied. "I don't know if it's something that should, or if I'm just paranoid…if I'm going crazy."

"OK, flyboy," she sternly mocked. "What's going on now?"

Truthfully, I didn't know what it was. Why was it so hard to tell her I really feel? I'd never had that kind of trouble before with a woman, but it seems that whenever I was around Jill, everything just seemed to collapse.

"Awfully quiet, Chris," she said.

"Well," I began. It was now or never: Judgment Day. "Something's been making me think…since we were talking in the kitchen the other night. It was just reinforced last night."

"And what is that?"

_Come on Chris, just say it! Just say it!_

I knew what he was going to say, and it was humorous, but sweet, at how he stumbled and bumbled. I sat, however, playing dumb, pretending that I had no clue what he was talking about.

"You know…" he said. "Since the whole S.T.A.R.S. deal…no, before that, when you first came to Raccoon City, I'd always admired you, and thought myself lucky to have a friend like you. And now, with everything that's happened, and that's going to happen, I just don't want something to happen without telling you that…uh…I…oh, man, this is tough…"

"I think I get the picture," I answered as I smiled. He looked at me strangely as I put my hand on his, and brought myself closer and kissed him.

"I've wanted to do that for the longest time," she said, as we finally released one another. "But I never knew that you felt the same way. And I could never find the words myself."

"But we're going to have to be very careful," I warned. "NEO's after us hot and heavy now. I can't lose you."

"I think we'll be just fine," she said, moving into the crook of my arm. "Leon and Claire did it through the Bio-Port battle, so did Seth and Becky. We're in for a rough road, but I think we can do it."

"I…" I began, until I heard the roar of three Apache helicopters fall in behind the Gulf.

"Oh fuck," I gasped. "NEO. They're here."

"Three bogies on radar," I heard Carlos say, like any experienced fighter pilot, but the first in a Gulfstream. "They're closing in fast."

"Can't you do anything?" Leon asked. "Evasive maneuvers?"

"Is that an order?" Carlos smirked. My brother-in-law stood in the cabin deep in thought, and looked back up at Carlos.

"Hammer down, Carlos," he ordered. "We got to make it to Desert Paradise." Carlos put the headset back on, and I slid into the copilot's seat. Leon ran from the cabin as Carlos grabbed the throttle lever, and slammed it down as far as it would go. 

"Get everyone down!" I shouted through my own mic. "They'll open fire any minute." The Gulf roared through the air, followed intently by the Apaches, who let loose with .50 caliber chain guns. Carlos put the plane into a tight barrel roll, and began to gain altitude.

"They won't be able to follow us up too much higher," he told me. "Hopefully." The Apaches kept firing and followed us up, but soon, their craft couldn't raise altitude any further.

"I think we've lost them," I breathed.

"Not for long," Carlos shouted. "Air to air missile!" 

"Everyone grab something and hold on!" I shouted. "We're going down!" Carlos slammed the yoke down, and the plane began drastically losing altitude. We could still see the missile on radar as Carlos leveled the plane at about nine thousand feet. 

"We can't outrun it," Carlos said. "I'm going to cut speed and lower altitude. Maybe we can still survive this…" He slowly released the throttle, and…

_Booooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmm!_

"Left engine!" I shouted as the plane rocked violently. Carlos' face remained calm as he cut power to the other engine and guided the flaming wreckage down into the desert stands.

"Hold on, _amigos!!_" Carlos shouted. The plane hit the sands and began sliding. Carlos and I gripped tightly to the control panel as the plane skidded…and finally stopped. We sat for a few minutes just trying to catch our breath, and Carlos finally spoke.

"Think we need to check on the others?"

"Let's go," I said. We unbuckled and walked back into the cargo hold, and saw our friends, all shaken, but otherwise OK. Leon had a small gash on his forehead, but that was about it for injury. I kicked open the door on the side of the plane, and pushed out the emergency chute. It inflated, and we all slid down: children first, followed by the adults. We all gathered in the sands, and tried to figure out where we were.

"Any ideas, Carlos?" Leon asked.

"We're only a mile or so out of Desert Paradise Airfield, I think," he said. "My radio on the plane still works, so I guess I can give it a go." He proceeded to climb _back_ up the chute, and after a struggle, he was back in the plane. We all stood silently, until we saw three black Hummers approaching from the north. When they got closer, we could see a recognizable symbol: Umbrella-NEO. They stopped just in front of us, and troops in riot gear with hi-powered rifles rushed out and surrounded us. One final figure in black leather came out of the head vehicle as the troops jarred us like cattle into one big herd. He was a tall guy, rather young. Blonde hair and dark black shades. I looked at my sister, and saw her shaking in her husband's arms.

"No," she whispered. "Not you."

"I'd think you'd be happy to see me, Claire," Steve Burnside snidely remarked, walking up to her. "But, alas, as it always goes…" Then Leon caught his eye.

"So you're the great Leon Kennedy," he growled. He lifted an arm, and punched him in the eye. Leon, caught blind by the hit, fell and rolled in the dust. This elicited laughter from the soldiers.

"NO!" the eighteen month old Marty Kennedy shouted, as he proceeded to his father's side.

"Such a cute kid," Steve said. "Too bad that we'll have to change that, when Big Al gets here."

"How the hell…" I gasped. Steve had died in the explosion in the Antarctic. But yet…he had just assaulted Leon and now stood looking at me.

"Wesker helped me escape after you and Claire left me for dead, Chris," he said, as if he could read my mind. "He promised me that after I recovered, that I could find you and pay you your fair share. Get them to the vehicles, men. We're about to show them our own version of Desert Paradise." We were shuffled to the Hummers, and I saw Steve kneel down by Leon and whisper something. Steve swiftly kicked him in the sides several times, and left him in the sands.

"What about him?" one soldier asked.

"Nobody from miles around," Steve answered. "Leave him. He'll die a worse death than we have planned for them."

I awoke and pushed myself up, only to see myself back on the Gulfstream with Carlos next to me.

"They took them, Leon," he said. "I couldn't stop them. I could only hide on the plane." I stood up and looked out the door at the tracks in the sand.

"Can we go after them?" I asked.

"Well, I do have that forklift in the plane," Carlos said. "But it can only hit about 55."

"Get it down. We'll use it. Get as many guns as you can, and let's go." 

That bastard had my wife, my son, and everyone else I cared about. There was nothing else on my mind. I had to strike, and strike quickly.

__

New complications make themselves known day by day now. Now Steve's back…and Wesker's alive? Can Leon and Carlos rescue everyone, or will they finally meet the end? 


	6. The Wastelands

****

EYES OF THE BEHOLDER

CHAPTER SIX: THE WASTELANDS

__

My attention has been alerted to several confusing perspective switches in the last chapter. I still have to switch from time to time, due to the limited view FPV brings, but this time I attempted to make them somewhat clearer, and somewhat longer.

Chris-

Hope never dies:

I sat in the luxurious Hummer, my sister's head resting on my shoulder, tears streaming down her face. _Poor girl,_ I thought. _Shock of her life, seeing Steve alive…and much less becoming his captive…not to mention the infectious bastard had left Leon out in the middle of the scorching Arizona desert to die. And Jill…what about Jill? Where is she? Is she OK? _Steve had been so tactfully cruel without even knowing it, placing her in one of the vehicles behind us. I guess it was now just wait and die…it seemed that we didn't have a chance in hell.

"Al, it's Steve. Oh, come on now, don't get so uptight. I don't care who calls you what, I'll call you what I want when I want to do it. Yes, I've got them all. Shot them out of the sky; it was one hell of a show, I might add. Uh-huh, yep. Oh yeah, I've already taken care of Leon Kennedy, and for some reason, Olivera didn't choose to accompany them. The little spick was nowhere to be found…"

The conversation continued, but I had to get Claire's attention. We still had a chance.

"We still got a chance, sis," I whispered softly. "Carlos was still on that plane…they never found him. Leon's out there too, and he won't be too far behind." I heard Burnside end the conversation; he slapped the cell phone shut, put it in his black jacket, and said something to the driver. The soldier nodded, and Steve turned his attention to us.

"So whatcha talkin' about back there?" he asked, a friendly mask over his voice, covering enough hate and malice to make the devil shake. "I want to hear."

Claire and I made a silent, but mutual decision not to pleasure the little worm by even dignifying him with an answer.

"Oh, come on," he laughed. "Nothing to say to an old friend? Hey, I got an idea: why don't you tell me how Leon's still alive, and he's going to follow us on foot, come in with guns blazing, and save the day? Hahaha, that'll be a nice party joke. What? No answer? I need something to brighten my day…oh wait, I do! I still get to kill you two!" He began to roar with laughter, and turned back around in the seat. This wasn't the same Steve Burnside that Claire had come to care about…he was a monster.

"Oh well, I guess sometimes a guy just can't have any fun," he said. "But that's something you two are going to learn in a hurry. 'Cause Big Al's on his way here, and he's ready to be rid of you little hemorrhoids. Get ready, because the party's just starting."

__

Leon-

Hot Pursuit:

Carlos kicked the forklift into low gear, and we began to track the Hummers across the sands of the Arizona desert. I stood on the left fork of the massive vehicle, magnum in hand, watching the tire tracks. The sun was blistering, even in the middle of January, and I felt beads of sweat pour down into my swollen left eye, which I had limited-to-no use of. My forehead, while no longer bleeding, was raging like fire from a piece of debris that struck me in the plane wreck, and I had to have several broken ribs on my right side, thanks to Steve's boots; however none of these seemed to phase me…the only pain I could comprehend was having the two most important…no, all of the important people in my life taken from me and knowing that their lives were in immediate danger. 

"Hey, you all right?" I heard Carlos shout over the loud diesel engine. I looked at him, trying to shield my eyes from the dust.

"How about you ask me when we find my wife and son!" I shouted back. He nodded, and we continued. Everything remained silent for the next half hour, and finally Carlos stopped and killed the engine.

"We need to get our stuff ready," he said. "There's an old deserted storage facility the Army used near here. It's got a humongous prison fence all around it. I bet you NEO's moved in, and that's where they're headed." We checked the red duffel bag that we had packed all of our weaponry in: four MP5 assault rifles, two Remington shotguns(10ga. And 12ga.), and Seth's Python .45, with plenty of ammunition for both. 

"There's a small access road just up ahead," he said, after we had sat for a few minutes. "I think we should keep going."

"Yeah," I answered. "They have close to an hour on us already." He climbed back behind the wheel and I stood on the fork, and we continued as fast as the bulky vehicle could go. About ten minutes later, we followed the tracks onto a paved road, where we found a small piece of evidence showing that we were headed in the right direction:

KEEP OUT

PRIVATE PROPERTY

TRESSPASSERS SHALL BE PROSECUTED

UMBRELLA-NEO PHARMECEUTICALS, INC.

"Looks we're in the right place," I observed as we pulled away from the sign. Shortly after, we found a security guard sitting on a four-wheeler. He was too deep into an adult magazine, therefore he never even saw us coming. 

However, he heard the forklift's engine, but he wouldn't even look up.

"Show Clearance passes, please," he stuttered, drooling over a bare-chested woman. He finally looked up when I stuck my Desert Eagle to his temple and pulled the trigger. 

"A-clearance, you kidnapping bastard," I fumed.

"Little much, don't you think?" Carlos asked as I pushed the cadaver off of the four wheeler, taking the Remington 10ga. Out of the bag along with a couple boxes of ammo. I closed the bag and put it on the back of the vehicle, and I picked up the guard's blood-splattered clipboard, searching the security log for anything of interest. Finally, near the bottom of the page, something caught my eye:

O'DONOVAN, SHANNON w/ RAID T.PORT GROUP 3-A

TRANSPORTING NINE PRISONERS, AS FOLLOWS:

-REDFIELD, C. A-30 G-M

-KENNEDY, C. A-24 G-F

-KENNEDY, M. A-18mos. G-M

-THOMPSON, A. A-28 G-M

-MASON, B. A-34 G-M

-CHAMBERS, R. A-22 G-F

-VALENTINE, J. A-29 G-F

-BIRKIN-KENNEDY, S. A-16 G-F

-PRIORITY: TC-63841-MO-8412-GNWB-GENESIS(TRANSFER TO LAB COMPLEX 

A UPON ARRIVAL)

AUTHORIZATION CODE: PRIME

O'Donovan was with Steve? I couldn't remember seeing anyone else with him. Anyway, I was too disgusted with the insistence of NEO to refer to Seth as Genesis, like he was some kind of animal, instead of a human. However, we now knew that they were here. I signaled for Carlos to go ahead of me and we sped off towards the gates in the distance. 

__

Chris-

When the Trumpet Sounds:

We arrived in the facility, where Seth was immediately separated from the rest of us. It was a show to watch…it took six guards to get him to cooperate, after he had seriously injured the previous four. They finally shot him up with a tranquilizer, and he continued to struggle, until he had no more energy. Claire put up a similar fight as they wrenched her son from her arms, and the two it took to get Martin Scott Kennedy away from his mother followed the crew responsible for the lumbering Seth Hartford. As for the rest of us, we were herded into a large cell in the bottom basement level of the facility…a dirty, dank chamber that was eerily reminiscent of most of the Rockfort Island facilities.

"The prez will be here in the morning," Steve gleefully stated as the security guard locked the door. "Then the _real_ fun will begin. See you soon, guys." Just as he turned away, the other uniformed guard stopped him at the concrete stairs.

"Mr. O'Donovan, you have a phone call in your office, sir," he stated. Steve waved the soldier off, and he trekked up the stairs. The security guard returned to his desk as his accomplice sat in a chair near the cell, and my jaw hung to the floor. The guard had addressed Steve as "O'Donovan." Was it possible that…then I realized it was. I turned around, and saw Claire sitting on the hard iron bench in the room; I decided she needed a little comforting, so I sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.

"You got to give Leon a little credit," I told her. "If he could stop that truck like that last week, then he's not going to let this scrawny, self-absorbed traitorous little prick get the best of him." She shook her head, and looked at me.

"But what about Martin?" she asked. I could only wonder what the sick sons of bitches had in store for my beautiful baby nephew.

"Just remember, they got Seth in there with him," I assured her. "That tranquilizer will have to wear off sometime, and even if it doesn't, he'd die before he'd let anything happen to that child." I gave her a quick hug, and walked over to where Jill stood alone.

"You OK?" I asked her.

"Yeah, I guess," she quietly answered. I put my arms around her waist and drew her close to me. I lifted one of my arms and smoothed back her soft brown hair.

"We're going to get out of this," I told her. "We've still got two guys on the outside, and even if we didn't, they'd have to kill me before I'd let them anywhere near you." She nodded, and laid her head on my chest and closed her eyes. Everything remained quiet for a minute, so I lowered my head and started to whisper in her ear.

"Jill, I…" I began.

"INTRUDER ALERT! TWO MEN AT WEST GATE C! ALL AVAILIABLE SECURITY PERSONNEL PLEASE REPORT IMMEDIATELY! REPEATING…" 

"If that's who I think it is," Ark began.

"Then we'd best pack our shit," Bruce finished. "'Cause we're on our way out!"

__

Leon-

Reckless Drive: 

When the smoke and sand cleared, five NEO guards were dead, and the menacing gate was crumpled like tinfoil, thanks to Carlos' forklift. Sirens were blaring around the facility like no tomorrow, and although we had defeated the first wave of security, there would be more following. I shuffled the weapons bag on my shoulder as I hopped off of the black ATV, and turned to Carlos.

"Let's head on in, before we get another little visit," I advised. He agreed, and we entered the front door of the facility. It was a similar sight: the layout was unmistakably the same as most of the other Umbrella facilities I had ever ventured into. Which I wasn't complaining…it would only make it easier to find the others. We followed the main hall straight, and we came upon a deserted computer terminal. Carlos set the shotgun on the desk and set to work on the terminal.

"Try and bring up the security logs," I recommended. 

"That was the plan, _mano," _ he answered. His fingers flew over the keyboards as he bypassed passwords, security checkpoints, and other electronic deterrents as he finally found the incarceration log.

"They've separated them," he said, scanning the screen. "Seth and Martin have been carted off to Lab Complex A, just down this hall. Everyone else is in the lower basement level in the holding complex. Take the elevator behind me."

"OK, we'll head down to the basement first, get everyone a gun, and go after Seth and Martin." Carlos looked at me, and shook his head.

"I want to sit and get as much of this stuff on disk as I can," he said, finding a box of disks in the desk. "This kind of stuff will work great in a court." 

"All right, I'll be coming back for you," I told him as I ran to the elevator.

"Be ready to go." The large silver doors opened, and I stepped inside. I hit a blue button that had the label 'B-2', and felt it jerk to life and begin to lower. The doors slid open to reveal a large set of stone steps that lead into the detention compound. I hurried down the steps into a large brick room, where two surprised guards leapt up from their seats and made a sad attempt at defense, but I quickly gunned them down with the magnum. I felt everyone's eyes on me as I pulled the keys off of one of the guards, along with a Glock 17. I laid the duffel bag next to the deceased guard, and walked over to the door of the large cell. After a couple of minutes of twisting, turning, and all-out beating the rusty lock, the door finally opened and my wife flew into my arms.

"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered.

"You ought to know that I'm not so easy to beat," I replied. Everyone else crowded around me, obviously concerned with my beaten and bruised condition.

"I'm fine," I answered everyone's question. "But we still have my son and Seth to worry about. Carlos found out where they took them, so let's put the reunion off to the side and take care of some business." I opened the weapons bag and began distribution" our MP5s to Claire, Chris, Jill, and Ark; our other shotgun to Bruce; the .45 Python to Becky. Finally, I handed the 9mm that I had pulled off of the guard to Sherry.

"Just remember what I taught you," I told her. "Now, let's go and kick some ass."

We came back up into the main hall, to see four guards firing at Carlos, who was underneath the desk with the bolt-action .303. Ark, Chris, and I began to return fire as the others got fresh ammunition loaded. Two went down, but our little volley had distracted them long enough to allow Carlos to pop up and finish another off, before crouching down beneath the desk again. The last one looked too confused…he didn't know whether to go after us or the scrawny South American…but he seemed to like the one-on-one odds better as he headed for the back of the desk; however, little Sherry ended the attempt by blowing his assault rifle out of his hand.

"Aw, hell!" he shouted. "This fuckin' hurts!" Carols revealed himself again and put the guard out of his misery. We hurried over to where Carlos was standing.

"Wow, thanks for the save," he said, patting Sherry's shoulder. "None of us could've done that good if we wanted to."

"I just didn't want to kill anyone," she timidly answered. I bent my knees where I could look her in the eye, and put a strong hand on her shoulder.

"You did the right thing," I told her. "If you wouldn't have shot him, then he would have killed Carlos. It's them or us, Sherry. And I'm going to make sure that it's not us." She nodded as I stood up, and although I could still see sadness in her countenance, we were pressed for time, and we carried on towards the door to the lab complex. We began hearing strange sounds as we grew closer, such as things being knocked down and people screaming.

"Get…off…of…ME!"

"Wonder who's made the mistake of trying to tie Seth down now?" Chris asked and, which seemed inappropriate in the situation, drew laughter from us all. Ark and Chris put their shoulders into the locked door, and we saw the massive man comforting my crying son as he stepped through what seemed to be little better than a trash heap of equipment and scientists.

"Hey, look," he cooed to the baby. "It's your mom and dad." Martin raised his tear-streaked face from Seth's chest and saw us. He wriggled down from Seth's arms and jumped into Claire's.

"I hate to interrupt such a _touching_ moment," we heard from behind us. We turned around, and there stood Steve, eerily dressed like Wesker in a black three-piece, holding a handgun. "But I've got to kill you now."

"Burnside," I growled.

"Or is it O'Donovan now?" Chris asked, matching my animosity. 

"Yep," he answered. "Steve Burnside is legally dead…how could a dead man be in my position?"

"Man?" I asked. "Try parasite."

"And you're the O'Donovan behind all of this huh?" Ark fumed.

"Every bit," he laughed. "Me and Wesker, we planned it all, hoping it would make you all show up sooner or later. Kinda looks like it worked, and now, I'm going to become a hero. 'Cause I'm going to single-handedly kill all of you terrorists." He raised the gun, and pointed it first at my wife.

"Sorry, Claire," he said. "I could've loved you, but you just had to leave me to die. Time to repay the favor."

WHAM!

We watched Steve fall to the linoleum floor, and saw a grinning Carlos standing behind him, holding the .303 by the barrel.

"Knocked him in that big head of his," he elated. "Eat that, fucker."

"Why the hell didn't you shoot him?" Chris asked.

"Ammo's spent, man," he answered. "Now look, we got ten minutes, and this place is going up!" Not even bothering to ask how he planned we leave the god-forsaken desert, we rushed through the empty halls and out the door towards the gate. Finally, after assuring we were a safe distance from the facility, we turned and watched it explode. It was a spectacular sight, sending a large ball of flame high into the air. We stood in the road for several minutes, and finally it struck Chris that we had no place to go.

"Where to now, fearless leader?" he asked me. "We're in the middle of nowhere, and we have no way out."

"We're only about an hour north of a little town, I think," Carlos advised. "Might take a little longer, but we really don't have much of a choice." Although we all were tired, nobody seemed to have a complaint, so we began making our way down the road. We all remained quiet as we traveled, until Seth heard a noise far in the distance.

"Hold up," he said, trying to listen. "Helicopter. Big one. North of us, headed our way." None of us could make out the noise, but due to Seth's persistence, we decided to wait. A couple of moments later, we noticed a green speck coming from the still smoldering NEO facility, and it began to descend on our position.

"Is it NEO?" Claire asked, gripping tightly to our son as the large transport chopper lowered itself in front of us.

"Nope," Chris answered thankfully after noticing a tell-tale sign of the good guys: the red, white, and blue near the rear rotor. Not to mention Barry Burton behind the yoke, and Mick Stevens hanging out the rear door, motioning for us to enter as the chopper landed on the asphalt. We had to shield our eyes from the monstrous dust cloud the helicopter was kicking up as we rushed to meet Stevens in the chopper.

"They just don't know when to quit, do they?" he asked as I hopped aboard. "Good to see you again, Leon."

"Small talk later," I ordered as everyone else climbed in the helicopter. "Just get us the hell out of here."

__

Damage Control:

"It's worse than I thought, Leon," the Federal Marshal told Barry, Chris, Ark, and me in his makeshift office in the Phoenix FBI branch office. "They've already established several US shipping offices, and they're applying for a new chemical distribution license. I've sent crew after crew of inspectors, but they can't seem to turn anything up."

"Look," I replied. "They shot down a three-hundred thousand dollar aircraft, they kidnapped all but two of us, and they endangered all of our lives. Not to mention their little stunts in Valin Heights."

"And that memo that Steve gave the guys in the truck," Chris added. "Burnside's alive, admitted that he was O'Donovan and that he and Wesker were after us. And there's nothing you can do? You've got to be shitting me!"

"Look, the administration is actually supporting NEO's stateside return," Mick dryly said. 

"And so they're going to put the lives of their citizens on the line just for a couple million in taxes?" Ark shot. "That's not the kind of government I worked for. Somebody up there's got their heads fucked or something, and it's going to lead to nothing but catastrophe."

"Don't you think I realize that?!" Mick shouted. "Damn it, I've been trying everything I know to stop this! It's not working! They've probably got so many people on the inside keeping all of this neat and clean. I don't know what else I can do!"

"Well, we've got to come up with something!" I shouted. "We can't just let these people get away with this!" Mick went to say something, but Barry raised a hand.

"Two things, Marshal," he said. "Number one: Wesker is going to have to go through a court to get that permit, right?"

"Yes," Stevens answered. "In a month, to be exact."

"Then you need to figure out how you can testify at this hearing, and present all of this. And I mean _everything_. Number two, if…let's say…the S.T.A.R.S. chose to open their own investigation of the matter, would you or anyone else up the ladder attempt to stop me?"

"Only your own superiors," Mick replied, starting to catch on to Barry's idea. "S.T.A.R.S. is an independently funded government agency. The call would come from your HQ." My contingency stood with me to leave, and Mick called back to us from his desk.

"I'm still in New York city," he told us. "Keep me informed. 'Cause I'm going to need all the help I can get."

__

Rededication:

Bruce had joined Ark, Chris, Barry, and I in one of the hotel rooms that Stevens had rented for us in Phoenix.

"I understand," Barry began speaking to us. "That you guys, minus Chris, are dedicated to Valin Heights and the S.R.U. But if we want to get this done right, then you guys should come back to Billings with me and take jobs in my office."

"What do you have in mind," I asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Well, I'm going to put you as my Associate Director of Agent Operations," he said. "And Chris, I've got a position ready for you as my A.D. of Intelligence. You two would be the ones assigned to the investigation, but in all sense, I guess we'd still be answering to Leon."

"Hey, you're the big director," I replied. "So why me?"

"You've brought us all this far," he told me. "So we're going to keep you in charge. I'll just be the guy reviewing the reports and signing the checks. Now, Ark, we've got an open position for an Alpha commander in the city's unit, and if Bruce will join us, there's a Bravo command position open as well."

"Sounds interesting," Chris mulled.

"Paperwork will be a bitch," Ark laughed. "But I guess I can do it."

"Sherry and the baby," I reminded Barry. "What about them?"

"Amy still lives around there, right?" Chris asked. "Why not leave them with her and Sam?" I thought for a minute…my twenty year old sister and her husband would probably care for them, understanding the circumstances. 

"If Claire will go for it," I said. "Then so will I."

"How we going to get our stuff up here though?" Ark asked. 

"My guess is Carlos will be flying the kids back to Illinois, so he could always get clothes and stuff for everyone. We've got plenty of room for everyone at the ranch: three empty bedrooms and a guest house," Barry offered. "I guess clothes is all anyone would need."

"Well, I'd love to help you all put a boot in Wesker's ass," Bruce began. "But my wife isn't going to want to move and all, especially putting you all in a bind."

"Not a problem," Barry said. "If you don't want to go, then you don't have to. And if you do go, then once we're done with Umbrella, then nobody's going to make you stay. So who's in?"

"Me," Chris said. 

"Count me in," Ark added.

"I'll do it," I told Barry.

Bruce was hesitant. He stood up, scratched the back of his muscular neck, and turned back towards us.

"As long as Ellen's OK with it," he said. "Then I'd be a fool to say no to a chance like this."

It was after eleven when I finally made it back to the room Claire and I were sharing. She was still awake when I walked in, flipping through cable channels. Martin was probably asleep with Sherry in their room next door, leaving the two of us alone.

"What're you still doing up?" I asked as I walked in and locked the door.

"Waiting for you," she answered, putting the remote on the nightstand as I laid down next to her, kicking off my shoes.

"I've got some news," I told her as she rolled over to face me.

"And that is…" she inquired.

"How does Montana sound to you?" I replied. She sat up and mulled over it.

"You're joining the S.T.A.R.S.?" she asked, putting two and two together.

"Assistant Director, West-Midwestern agent operations," I replied. "Barry wants me to run the investigation he's going to open up against NEO."

"Sherry's still in school," she informed. "I don't want to move her halfway through the year."

"I've called Amy," I said. "She's agreed to take the kids until we get this over with, and you've already got Sam basically running the store. Once we get this under control, we'll send for them or we'll go back to Illinois. Whatever you decide. If you don't want to, then we won't."

"If this will help get this over with, then let's do it," she said. We rested there in silence for awhile, until I decided to say something.

"With what happened today…" I began. "Steve, and all. Are you OK?"

"I…guess," she stammered. 

"I know that had to have been a shock," I told her. "And I can see it's bothering you. But just remember, he's not the same; don't forget that. Wesker's brainwashed him, and if Steve survived that blast, then we're going to have to deal with him sooner or later." She nodded, and crawled underneath the comforter.

"I love you, Claire," I said as I nodded off to sleep. "And please, don't forget that."

__

Chris-

Not-so-lonely Dreamer:

I closed and locked the door to the hotel room, and saw Jill quietly sleeping. I took off my shirt and jeans, slipped into a pair of shorts, and crawled into bed next to her.

"Little late, aren't you?" she asked.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" I responded. She smiled as she turned to face me.

"I just laid down," she said. "I tried to wait up for you, but I figured you and Barry had some important stuff to discuss."

"Well, it was," I answered. "I'm going back into S.T.A.R.S.," I added. "Barry's AD of Intel."

"So you're going to Montana, huh?" she inquired.

"Well…" I faltered. "Only if you'll go with me." She looked at me for a moment.

"I'd go anywhere with you, Chris," she told me. "After today, I can't let you get away from me that easily."

"I love you Jill," I said, finally finding the right words without being interrupted. "I've always known it, and it feels good to finally say it." She looked at me, and I felt her soft lips touch mine. Ad as I felt her soft, slender fingers run across my back, I was thanking God that I remembered to lock the door.

__

Leon-

Turning Westward…or Northward:

"You guys behave for Amy," Claire told Sherry and Martin as she strapped the younger into the medium-sized, single engine Cessna Carlos was using to shuttle them to Illinois, and our stuff to Montana.

"I will, Claire," she replied, before going deep into thought. "I mean…Mom." Claire looked at the young girl with a surprised face, and then tightly embraced her.

"I love you guys," I added, speaking through an open window. "We'll come after you as soon as we get this matter settled."

"Just take care of yourself, Dad," Sherry answered. I felt a smile come to my face, and I turned to Carlos in the pilot's seat.

"Amy and Sam are going to meet you at the airport," I said. "They'll have all of our stuff. The only trip you'll have to make is after Bruce's wife and their stuff. Then haul back to Billings, 'cause we're working on something for you to do."

"Will do, cap," he said, but before he could start the engines, Seth walked up to give his sister a goodbye.

"Guess it's goodbye again," he mournfully said.

"Yeah," she replied, a little more upbeat. "But we'll see each other soon, just as soon as you drive Umbrella into the ground."

"I'll keep in touch, kid," he said.

"I love you, Seth," she told him. "Please be careful." It was unusual to see Seth Hartford, his biological father William Birkin's failed attempt at a bio-weapon, fighting back tears.

"I love you too, Sherry," he told his sister. "Now keep out of trouble, and tell that Keith guy that I'm going to have to meet him one of these days. You can even throw in the whole 'killing people with my hands' gig. I think he'd like to see my picture, too." Sherry got a shocked and horrified look on her face, and that brought laughter from Seth.

"I'm just kidding, sis," he laughed. "Now just take it easy, and don't worry about us. We'll be back before you know it." He walked back over to the others, but Claire and I remained and watched Carlos start the plane, taxi it down the runway, and take off. We watched until it was nothing but a little red-and-white speck, and then until it was nothing it all. Ark walked over to us, and drew our attention.

"You guys ready?" he asked. "Chris has the plane ready, and we really need to go." The three of us walked to our own aircraft, a high-dollar Learjet that Stevens had miraculously supplied. As we strapped in, I thought of what Sherry had done for Claire and me. Just two simple words, mom and dad, had raised our spirits, and I realized that we were doing the right thing. We were making the world a better place for our children, as well as everyone else. 

__

Our heroes have rededicated themselves of ridding the world of Wesker and Umbrella-NEO. But what awaits them as they begin this new journey? And is Steve still alive? All these questions answered plus more in the next chapter of Eyes of the Beholder.

  



End file.
